Ironies of Life
by West Wind
Summary: The circus closes, and Catherine finds a new job. The shock comes when she discovers her new employer is some one she has meet before under not so favorable terms. Told from Catherine’s POV.
1. It's Over

Ironies of Life   
By West Wind   
Rating: PG   
Pairing: 4XC   
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing characters.   


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Chapter 1 - It's Over

This is it. This chapter of my life is finished I tell myself as I pick up my belongings and walk out the trailer door one last time. All I have ever known, is gone or soon will be. As I look around I see what remains of the once thriving circus. It has become a mer shadow of its former glory. 

I watch them taking down the old tattered tent and see in my mind's eye the once noble main tent that housed the stage for us to perform in. The place where families laughed at the clowns, gasped at the daringness of performers suspended in air, and ohhed and awed at the animals moving through their paces. They bought cotton candy and peanuts to munch on, and in the end, they took home cherished memories with their souvenirs. 

This was home. The only home I truly remember, and now it is gone. The animals have been sold and taken way days ago. Once everyone moves out, the trailers will be next. I shake my head at the grief and loss that fills my core. It has been there since the announcement was made about the closing. After years of low attendance, the owners opted for closing us. They had tried to find a buyer, but no one wanted to buy a failing circus. 

That first night, I cried till there were no more tears. I cried softly at first. Tears streaming down my face, and I let them fall where they would. Soft choking sounds sporadically sprung from my throat. All I could think about was the feeling of walls falling in around me and the earth shaking beneath me. I had been through so much over the years and all of it I approached head on. This shook me and threw me off my foundation. Before, no matter what was going on, I could always rely on my friends at the circus for support. Now that would be gone, and I would be alone. That is when my body started trembling with grief and loud sobbing spilled from my mouth. I clutched my pillow to me and buried my face in it as I rocked side to side in the middle of my bed. Finally I felt num. There was nothing when I thought about it. There were no tears, no cries of pain, and no emotions. Then I called Trowa to tell him, and I cried more. 

I was not the only one. Many of us had puffy red rimmed eyes the next day; yet, we went about our business as if nothing had happened. We said nothing to each other about it until later in the day, and then, only in soft mournful whispers among a huddled group. We were all in a state of uncertainty desperately trying to wrap our minds around the cold reality life had thrown at us and plot what to do next. 

Now I am one of the last to leave. I am still unsure of what I am going to do. I could have joined another circus as some of the others had, but it just does not feel right. I have to try something different. Stretch my wings and see if I can fly. 

I once again gather my bags to me and make my way to the awaiting taxi. The driver helps me load my bags in the trunk before I get in. I give him the address of the apartment building I have temporarily rented a place at, and he speed off toward my new life. He stopped in front of the building and I get out. He tells me how much, and I pull out the dictated amount. I hand him the bills before he gets out and helps unload my things. 

I readjust the strap of one of the bags on my shoulder as the taxi pulls away, and I turn to my new home. It is an older six-story apartment building. Probably as old as the colony I am on. It has at least been taken care of. I climb the front stairs and open the metal door. After making my way to the elevator and to the fourth floor, I enter my one room furnished apartment. 

Dropping the bags on the sofa, I collapse into the chair. I take in my surroundings. It smells a bit musty still, even after I brought air fresheners for the place on my last trip. It is not much, but it will do until I find a job and can afford something better. I do not want to blow through my whole savings on rent for only a few months. 

I pull myself from the chair and walk to the refrigerator along the wall that served as a kitchen. I open it and retrieve a can of soda to help boost my energy level. Turning back to the task of unpacking, I grab one of the bags I just brought in. I stuff the cloths into the appropriate drawers or closet. That is mostly what I have, cloths, a few books, a box of memorabilia which will stay unopened, and a few pictures. 

I smile as I pull out the picture of Trowa and his wife. He actually is smiling in it. I am so glad he found a woman that could make him smile like that. I sure tried. I would get a smirk sometimes but never a smile. 

They had invited me to stay with them, but I just don't feel right about accepting their genuine offer. They have not been married two months yet, and I would feel like I am imposing. I want to try to stand on my own two feet and work through my loss on my own. 

When he first told me he was seeing someone, I feared she was not right for him or would hurt him. She did neither. Once I meet her, I knew how right she was for him. I think back on that time with mirth.   
~ Flashback ~ 

Trowa had left the circus over a year ago and became a Preventer agent. He treasured the fact that the world was at peace, yet a part of him felt the need to be active in keeping the hard won prize. I could see it in his eyes before he left. He was restless like a caged animal. Once I finally got him to admit what was eating at him, I told him not to let me hold him back. I could take care of myself, and he needed to do what he felt he needed to do. 

I punch in his number for our weekly conversation. His half-hidden face appears on the screen, and we start chatting. 

"I am seeing someone," Trowa says completely out of the blue. 

I am shocked. I know it is silly of me, but I never considered Trowa ever dating. My mouth falls open as I try to come to terms with Trowa's bombshell. I must look ridiculous because I got a smirk out to him. 

"You're seeing someone…" I sputter once I got over the initial shock. "Who is she? What's she like?" 

I pelt him with questions about the woman and how he met her. 

"One question at a time," he calmly responds with hands upraised signaling I should put on my breaks. 

While I wait for his reply, a flurry of emotions courses through me. I am happy that Trowa is actually being social, making friends. There is a bit of jealousy of the new girl in his life creeping in around the edges. Fear that he might get hurt spun out of control. I managed to reign the runaway emotions in as he started to tell me of his girlfriend. 

"Her name is Relena," he starts and flashes me a reassuring smirk as if he can read my thoughts. 

He probably can. They are probably all clearly written on my face for him to read. 

I roll the name over savoring its familiarness. I know I have heard it someplace before, but my emotion charged brain just would not find the connection. 

"You will like her," he assures. "She is a friend of Heero's." 

"Does she talk much," I tease remembering how talkative Heero had been, or not been. 

"She talks quite a bit," he says ignoring my attempt at being funny, 

As our conversation continues, I learn that Heero actually set them up on a date. It had been a successful first date, and they continued to see each other when their schedules permitted. 

I could tell that Trowa was enamored with this woman. She must truly be something. 

A few weeks later, I am pleasantly surprised when Trowa and Relena stop by the circus unannounced. Upon meeting the girl that has opened Trowa's heart, I like her immediately, well once I get over the shock of whom she is. He never told me she was THE Relena Peacecraft. Relena pokes him only half mockingly in the ribs for not telling me before hand. He catches her attacking hand with his and holds onto it throughout the rest of the introductions. 

I smile at their interaction and think what a good pair they make. 

~ end flashback ~ Less than two months ago, Heero, Trowa and Relena sweep down on the circus and carried me away to be their second witness at their unplanned wedding. They had been engaged for a few months. As they started the planing process, it only became more and more complicated. A fed up Relena suggested that they elope. Trowa agreed, and Heero made the arraignments. I was the last element they needed. 

It was a beautiful small wedding, and I am glad I got to witness it. 

"Well, enough of the reminiscing," I tell myself as I place the picture on top of the bookcase.   


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It has been over a month since leaving the circus and still no job. I called most of the places that teach gymnastics seeing if they were in need of instructors. With my background and experience, I believe it is something I am qualified to do, but none of them are looking for teachers. 

With that idea blown, I search through the help wanted ads for ideas on what I could do. The hard part is finding something I am qualified for. Most of the places I apply turn me down as not being qualified. I can't even get a simple office job filing. It does not help that the job market is saturated at the moment. 

I am getting frustrated. I have enough money to live on for a few more months, but I really want a job soon to keep from going stir crazy. Sitting in one's apartment all the time causes insanity. I go for walks or runs often and perform the warm up exercises from my old routines to help keep in shape. 

On one such walk, I decide to stop in at a bookstore just to look around. A notebook-sized book with a burgundy cover catches my eye. In gold letters on the front is the word "Memoirs." It is on sale for half price. I open the book and am greeted by neatly lined pages with page numbers center bottom of the page. Before I know it, I am at the register buying the book. 

I walk home and toss my newly acquired book on the table. I do not know what I am going to do with it. I fix dinner and sit in front of the TV. There is nothing on as usual. I flip off the TV, and I find myself thinking about the past. It only highness the loneliness I am feeling. I still have not fully adapted to the loss of my way of life. I have lots of good memories from there and the places I have seen. That was one of the benefits of working at the circus. I got to travel more places that most people ever dreamed of. 

My eyes light on the day's earlier purchase. I leave my seat and pick it up. I run my hand down its smooth edge reverently. 

"Memoirs," it says. 

I have a life history I could start to put down in its pages. I grab a pen and curl up on the couch. I open it to the first page. I gaze at the wall for a moment wondering where to start. The beginning is usually a good place. I place pen to paper and start writing… _The circus wagon raced down the road while the conflict raged around them. Explosions were coming closer and closer to their location and it was becoming harder to control the horses especially with his son held protectively in his grasp. The man feared for his family's life and cursed his stubbornness that prodded him to meet up with the others when the conflict around them was coming to a boil. He glanced at his wife and daughter beside him and pressed the horses faster to get them to safety. The horses galloped on along the road as fast as they could. They're bridal and gear jingling with each movement. Just then the little wagon was hit. It shattered into pieces. As the man was thrown from his seat, his son was thrown from his grasp._

_Hours later the young auburn haired girl freed herself from their wagon's remains. She took in the surroundings. Their home was destroyed. She turned to the still form of her mother._

_"Mom," she said timidly as she shook her mom, but there was no response. "Mom!" she tried again. "MOM!" she cried as she noticed there was no sign of life from the woman._

_She bravely held back her tears of grief as she went to find her father. She moved around to the wreckage to the other side. Her father lay beside the road. He was covered with blood._

_"Dad," she started and again no response._

_She approached the bloody form. She checked for a pulse and found none. That was it she had lost both her parents. Tears crept down her cheeks as the loss. Soon sobs were wracking her small body with sorrow as she cried her little heart out. Slowly her tears slowed and a slight bit of reason came back to her. Her brother was not with her father. She had seen him fly from their father's arms as she was tossed from the cart. She had to find him. She started to wander around the area in search, but there was no sign of him. She called out his name, but there was no response. She was alone, and the young girl did not know what to do. It was too much for her so she just sat in the middle of her wrecked home and cried. She eventually drifted off to sleep._

_A large hand shook her awake._

_"Catherine?" questioned a concerned voice._

_Catherine looked up at the larger man._

_"I am _Craig Jones,_ the manager," he stated. "When you and your family did not show up and we heard about the fighting, we came looking for you," he explained._

_Catherine looked around and saw others moving around the area before turning her attention to the man hovering over her._

_"They are dead," she murmured, "and I can't find my brother."_

_Tears threatened to tumble over her lower eyelid once again. She sniffled and tried to hold them back but could not._

_"I know," the man whispered._

_"Why do people have to fight? Why do they have to kill and take away people's families?"_

_"I don't have the answer, sweetie," he said as he pulled the now crying child into his arms. "Come, we will take care of you."_ That was something I had not allowed myself to think about in years. I had pushed that memory back, wanting to forget that horrific day, even though there was no way I could forget it. It is engrained into my very fiber. I can still see the sight that greeted me upon waking after the wagon's destruction as clear now as the day it occurred. The stillness of my mother and the blood covering my father are etched in my memory. My poor missing sweet brother. I do not remember much about him. He was a little younger than me with brown hair and mother's eyes. He also had a birthmark on his posterior. I remember making fun of him about it, and he would hide behind Mom's skirt. He was quiet, much like Trowa. I think that is why I took Trowa under my wing. He reminds me of my brother, and in so many ways he has become my surrogate brother. 

Once I finish with the death of my parents and my adoption by the circus, I feel like a burden I did not realize I was carrying was now gone. I feel drained but peaceful. I crawl into bed and am asleep within minutes.   


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Days slowly slip by and I find myself spending more and more time with pen in hand. I pour my feelings out through the ink marks on the page and wrestle with events that make me who I am. Pages slowly fill as I lay out my emotionally charged past. As I write I find myself facing issues I have been avoiding for too long. Other times I skip over them until I am ready to face them. 

I pick up my tale where I left off after the death of my family. I chew on the end of the pen as I remember being scooped up by Craig who made me feel safe. He carried me back to the car they came in and took me to the circus. _Catherine woke in a strange bed and disoriented. Frightened she made her way out of the small room looking for her parents. Instead she found the man from the accident. Her young mind filled with the pictures from the shattered wagon, and she tried her best to come to an understanding. She began to shake at the memories. Tears rolled from her eyes._

_Craig once again scooped her up in his arms and rocked her until her tears stopped._

_"It's ok to cry," he soothingly assured her._

_"Th-There go-onnne," she stuttered out._

_"I know," he gently said as he smoothed her curls. "I know."_

_~~~_

_A few days later, they buried her parents. She tried to be what she thought was adult like and not cry, but the tears tended to creep out her eyes. Craig held her hand through the entire thing lending the sole survivor his support._

_After the funeral, Catherine continued to stay with Craig Jones. He took Catherine in, adopted her, and raised her as his own daughter. With the loss of her family, Catherine clung to the friendly man. He held her in the night when she awoke screaming with the nightmares of that day haunting her. Time and Craig's love and support eventually eased the terror she felt. Eventually she once again laughed and played with the other children. She made friends, and most of the time it was like she had never lived anywhere else._

_All was well until she was twelve. That was when the man she now called father started to loose his ongoing struggle with an autoimmune disease. His body was destroying itself and there was not much that could be done. Catherine was ever present at his side through his long illness. As time passed she watched the once able-bodied man wither away. Jason Thornburg took over the manager position and helped Catherine take care of his predecessor along with the other circus members._

_When Catherine neared fourteen, Craig lost his battle, and she was parentless once more. Those at the circus gave her support and helped her through her time of grief. They were all her family now. She moved in with May, who had become like an older sister to Catherine. May was in her early twenties and had lost her parents a few years back. That had helped bring them together._ It might not be the most detailed account of what happened, but I could not find it in me to delve much deeper into the long painful process of loosing Craig. It was so painful to watch him fade never knowing if today would be his last day. Some days he was so bad, I wished he would die then so he could be free of the pain. On days that were better, that was the furthest thought from my mind. In many respects, it was harder loosing Craig than it was my parents. Maybe in the future I will be ready to examine that part of my life more closely, but for now that would have to do. 

I put down my book and pen and prepare for bed. I plan on sending out a few more résumés, and making a few follow-up calls. I have decided that if I have no good leads by the end of the week, I am going to try a temp or placement agency. I figure it will not hurt. I need to just get my foot in the door someplace, and I can move on from there. 

I close my eyes, but sleep does not come. Despair fills me. I have no job. No one wants to hire me. I have no friends around. I have no family. They all die and leave me alone.   
  


I squeeze my eyes shut against the forming tears and the overwhelming since of uselessness. Add to that the feeling of being unwanted, of loneliness, and of the world is out to get me, I want to crumble beneath the weight. I doubt if I will ever succeed outside the circus, and I wonder if I made the right choice. Maybe I should have gone to earth to live with Trowa and Relena. 

The thought of Trowa shines a bit of light into my ever-darkening mood. He is the one person I consider family that is still with me, and I know he will always be there for me. I cling to him and Relena as a drowning man to a passing log. Knowing they are there is enough to keep me afloat for a bit longer before I either surrender to the waves or make it to shore. It helps me quiet some of my nagging demons so I can sleep.   


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Thanks for reading and PLEASE send me feedback.   



	2. Life’s Next Chapter

Ironies of Life   
By West Wind   
Rating: PG   
Pairing: 4XC   
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing characters.   


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Chapter 2 - Life's Next Chapter

Monday comes with no leads, so I head to a placement agency. The lady looks over my forms and is cheerful and very positive that she will be able to place me in a job quickly. I shake her hand and leave. 

On the way home I pick up a notebook to store for the stories I find myself creating on the side. I now have a stack of notebook paper filled with stories in various states of completion. I have collected them by making up stories about other people's lives and other places. Some are from when I take paper and pen with me on my walks, and when something catches my attention, I write about it or him or her. I end up with a lot of one-page descriptions of people or places, but when I search for words to describe the uniqueness of what I am seeing, it helps me see what is around me in a richer light. Instead of someone having short brown hair, I compare it to someone else that is brown and try to distinguish the difference in hue and find words to paint the proper mental image. It becomes almost a game for me to pass the time and keep my mind occupied.   


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The phone rings, and I answer. 

"Miss Bloom," says a familiar voice of the lady at the placement agency I visited the other week, "I have a job that I think you would be perfect for," she says excitedly. 

"Really?" I question. "What is it?" 

"The Winner residence is looking for domestic help," she continues enthusiastically. 

"What sort of domestic help?" I inquire. 

"Oh, most of the job description would fall under the category of a maid," she says, "but the Winner estate is an excellent place to work." 

While she droned on about how every one would jump at the chance to even get an interview, and I was so lucky they wanted to interview me, I considered what I was being offered. The thought of being a maid did not thrill me, but at this point, almost two months since the circus closed, a job is a job. It was something I could do. It involved cleaning, laundry, maybe some cooking. The clincher for me was the job came with a place to stay as part of the package. I agreed to the interview. 

The next day I arrive at the agency nervous and not sure what to expect. I am escorted into a room where an older woman awaited me. Her silver hair is up in a bun on the top of her head. She has on a white blouse with a black jacket and black skirt. She smiles up at me as I enter. 

"Good, you're punctual," she says as if I passed the first test. "Please, have a seat, Miss Bloom." 

I sit down and pull out a crisp copy of my resume. I slide it across the desktop to her. She accepts it gracefully and briefly scans it before she introduces herself as Mrs. Gilbert, head of the Winner household staffing, and starts asking me questions and telling me about the job. 

She quickly puts me at ease, and we hit it off almost immediately. She is intrigued with my past life at the circus and asks a few questions about my time there. 

"My dear," she says almost grandmotherly, "I think you will be an excellent addition to our staff, if you would like the job." 

My jaw almost hits the floor. I can not believe I got the job that quickly. I accept once I get my mouth working. Mrs. Gilbert tells me to stop by tomorrow morning between 9 and 10 to fill out paperwork and orientation and gives my instructions of how to get there. With that we depart, and I head home. 

I knew of the Winner Corporation. Who didn't? I did not know much about the accrual people of the family though. As I thing about the job, a story idea jumps into my head. It teases me as I walk home and delights me with the plot I am devising. As soon as I enter my apartment, I grab paper and pen to sketch my new story plot out on. 

I date the top of the page just to give me an idea of the time it takes me to compete a story. It is something for my own records. I find it nice to know how long I have been working of a story and am amazed at how one story will practically write itself, while another I just can not finish. Now I start writing. 

The story is fiction and highly improbably to happen in real life, but it calls to me to be written. It is about a woman, named Pat, who is down on her luck and lands a job working for a rich family. I know it sounds a bit autobiographical, but that is where the similarities stop. Pat falls for one of the sons of the family. In the end they fall in love. I have not figured out all the twists and turns yet, but they will come to me. 

I give Pat a brief history and tell how she finds the job. I write about the first time she meets Nick, the son she will fall in love with. I turn to a new page and start outlining various possible situations the two can find themselves in that will help them realize their love for one another (It is going to be a sappy story most probably.) I have not decided who will fall in love with whom first yet, as well as, many other factors. I do have in mind the part where they confess their feelings, and I start that on a new page. _Pat decided that she could not work there any more. Every time she saw Nick all she wanted to do was be in his arms. She knew that would never happen. Sure he would often talk with her, but she could not see him taking an interest in her romantically. She was the hired help and only average in appearance. She had seen the women he associated with. They were rich, elegant, well educated, and mostly gorgeous. All the things she was not._

_She had a job lined up at a local department store and was now ready to turn in her two-week notice. She planed on placing the notice on Mr. Campbell's desk to await his return. She would tell the others when he got back from the sudden weekend trip he took the family on._

_Pat entered the office, set the paper on the desk, and turned to walk out. She faltered when she found Nick behind her. All she could think was he should not be here. He looked quizzically at her before removing her paper from his father's desk. He read the few lines, and Pat took the opportunity to leave the room without questions._

_"Why?" he asked halting her escape._

_"It's just time for me to move on," she said without turning around to look at him afraid he would be able to read the reason she was leaving on her face._

_She heard him approach. A hand rested on her shoulder and gently turned her around. She found herself staring into his dark eyes._

_"Where will you be going?" he asked._

_"I have a job lined up with Kinly's," she replied trying to resist the urge to run or kiss him._

_He was so close, she wanted to touch him._

_"Have we done something to make you unhappy?" he asked concerned as he watched her for any sign of a reason to this sudden decision._

_Pat did not know what to say. She fidgeted a bit and glanced at the floor. Nick tilted her head up to look at him. The adorable look on his face was too cute. Pat let her hand lightly touch his cheek. At this point she figured the worse that would happen was she lost her job sooner than two weeks._

_"I have to leave because I am in love with you," she answered._

_She closed her eyes at her admission and waited for what would come. She heard no words come from Nick's mouth, and with each passing second her anxiety grew. Her eyes flew open when a pair of lips were pressed against hers. Then she melted into the kiss. Her knees began to buckle, and Nick caught her with a whispered, "I love you, too."_

_She was shocked. Her mind reeled with the fact that he returned her feelings. Nick brushed a strand of hair from her face smiling at her._

_"Am I dreaming?" Pat whispered._

_"No, you are not dreaming" Nick reassured. "And sometimes fairytales do come true," he added before kissing her again._ My pen swiftly fills the lines with my story. I pause occasionally to work out what a character would say or do next in a situation. When I finally get it out of my system, I look up at the clock and find it is almost midnight. I have to go to bed, yet I flip through the pages I have spent the evening creating. I jot down a few comments for improvements here and there before placing the pages into a notebook and crawling into bed.   


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I find the address and come in through the side service entrance as instructed. Even from this entrance the house is impressive. The house is huge and elegantly designed. I walk up the drive that is flanked on either side by a well-manicured lawn. 

Just before I ring the bell, the door opens and out steps a tall dark haired man almost bumping into me. He looks at me surprised. 

"May I help you?" he asks. 

"I am here to see Mrs. Gilbert," I explain. 

He points me in the correct direction. I enter the house and follow the man's directions as I walk down the hallway. I find Mrs. Gilbert in her small office off the kitchen as she shuffles through papers. As I enter she smiles up at me. 

She starts me working on paperwork that needs filled out. With that out of the way, Mrs. Gilbert shows me around explaining tasks I might be doing. We come to one door and she opens it to display what appeared to be Mr. Winner's study or office. There was a desk stacked with papers, a phone, a lamp and a picture frame. There are a couple chairs, and bookcases around the room. 

"This is Master Quatre's office. I am the only one to clean it, and you will never touch this room.," she warns. 

I nod my understanding and continue the tour. The last place she shows me is where I will be staying. It is very nice. As we enter, there is a furnished main room with a small kitchenette along one side. 

"You are free to take all of your meals in the kitchen with us, but the kitchenette is provided for your own convenience," says Mrs. Gilbert. 

The other room is a bedroom with a bathroom off of it. The entire set of rooms was bigger than the place I currently lived. 

After getting me fitted for a uniform, Mrs. Gilbert gives me the pass I will need to get on and off the estate and the key to my room. 

"You will start work on Monday, and you can start moving in any time," Mrs. Gilbert informs me. "If you need any help, we can provide that," she smiles. "Any questions?" 

"I don't think so," I answer.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

I have three days to pack thing up and get settled into my new place. I spend the first day packing things up and letting my landlord know I would not be renewing my lease for the next month. Even though I do not have much, it takes a large part of the afternoon to pack. 

The second day I call Mrs. Gilbert to let her know I would be moving things in today. She insists on send someone over to help, so the knock on my door is not unexpected when it comes. I open the door to find the man who I ran into yesterday standing there. 

"Hi," he says smiling. "I'm Enoch, and you must be Catherine." 

The two of us load my belongings into the car. During our travels between the estate and my apartment, I learn Enoch is the resident mechanic/handyman and alternate chauffeur. He is very laid back and a bit of a tease and flirt. I can tell he is trying to make me feel welcome and put me at ease with his chatter. I have to admit that it is working. 

Enoch stays to help me unpack some of my belongings before there is something he has to attend to. I thank him for his help. 

"You will join us for dinner?" he asks insistently. "You will get to meet the others. We usually eat around six depending on the schedule." 

He looks at me intently obviously not moving until he gets an answer. 

"I'll be there," I smile up at him. 

"Good," he happily says before leaving. 

I shake my head at the good-natured man and turn to the task of unpacking. Several hours later I am finished with the task. I glance around the room seeing everything has found a place before I decide to call Trowa. I had not even told him I got a job yet. I call, but they are not home, so I leave a message. 

"Trowa, it' me, Cathy. I finally found a job. It is nothing fancy. I am a maid for a Mr. Quatre R. Winner. He is head of the Winner Corporation. Anyway, it comes with a place to stay so I have a new number and it is…" 

I rattle off the number before asking him to give me a call later and hang up with a sigh. Looking at the clock, I see it is almost six so I join the others for dinner in the kitchen. Enoch is the first to see me enter and starts enthusiastically introducing me to the others as he pulls a chair out for me. 

"Everyone, this is Catherine," he says. 

Those around the table murmur their greetings, and I nod to them in return. 

"Mrs. Gilbert you already know," says Enoch. "Beside her is her husband George Gilbert, the chauffeur. Lee is the assistant cook," he says pointing to the short dishwater blond male in the apron, "and Al is the head cook. Boris and his wife Natalie take care of the grounds. And, Leah here will be your cohort in cleaning," he finished as he playfully patted her on the shoulder. 

They all seem nice and give me pointers about various things like living here, or where the best places to shop are, or places I should visit. I help clean up, and before I leave Mrs. Gilbert pulls me aside. 

"Are you getting settled and finding everything ok?" she asks. 

"Yes," I reply. 

"Good. I have a welcome present for you," she says as she hands me a box. 

I open the box to find a decorative broach. 

"I was given it when I first started working here, and feel you should have it. I hope you find as much joy here as I have." 

"Who gave it to you?" I ask. 

"Mrs. Winner. She said it would bring me luck." 

"I can't take this," I protest. 

"I want you to have it," she says as she closes my hand around the item. "I think Mrs. Winner would want you to have it as well." 

"Thank you," I say before returning to my lonely room. 

I open my small jewelry box to put the broach Mrs. Gilbert had given me way, when my eyes are pulled to the diamond ring nestled securely in the folds of felt in the box. Memories come flooding back to me as I gently pick it up and slip it on my finger. It still fits. I don't know why I am surprised that it does. Maybe because I don't feel like the same person. I am no longer the hopefully idealistic youth that had once donned this ring. 

"Kevin…" slips from my lips as smoothly as the ring slips onto my finger. 

I had been avoiding writing about him up until now. It still hurt to think about him, but maybe it was time to face that tragedy of my past as well. 

I grab my paper and pen and start writing with the diamond ring on my finger sparkling in the light recalling its story to me. _Kevin was Catherine's best friend's brother, and the three of them had been friends since she was ten. He would constantly pick on Catherine and Elan until they called for his parents or they joined forces to take him down. They had good times as kids as they played around the circus._

_Over the past few years Catherine and Kevin's relationship started to change. It was nothing noticeable at first. Just a bit more teasing here, a bit more horsing around there. Now that Catherine was nearing sixteen and Kevin seventeen, they were beginning to admit and explore the reasons for the changes._

_One afternoon, Catherine and Kevin were waiting for Elan to finish what she was doing and join them. They sat on a bail of straw watching the elephants move around their area._

_"Do you ever think about leaving the circus?" Kevin asked her._

_"No," Catherine answered. "This is all I know and the only family I have left," she explained. "Do you?"_

_"Sometimes," he admitted._

_Catherine fidgeted a bit and stared down at her hands. She realized that she so did not want him to go. Her heart felt hollow at the idea._

_"I would hate to see you go," Catherine murmured not looking at her long time friend._

_"As long as there is something or someone to hold me here, I will stay," he countered._

_Catherine looked up at him curiously and hopeful._

_"Is there something to keep you here?" she asked._

_His face moved closer to hers. Catherine sat there frozen, unsure what was happening. He moved his lips to hers and placed a soft kiss there before pulling away._

_"You, if you'll have me," he said._

_Catherine's eyes widened with surprise at his announcement. She knew her feelings for him for a while but believed he only saw their relationship through the eyes of friendship. Now, he offered her more._

_"I'll have you," she replied._

_Kevin moved in for another kiss and wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. Catherine allowed him to pull her closer and allowed herself to be carried away in her first real kiss. That is when Elan showed up. She had fun teasing them about it the rest of the day._

_After that, they started officially dating each other. A year past and they started to talk marriage. They both had good jobs with the circus. In fact, they were partners in several acts. The newest one was a knife-throwing act. Catherine had been throwing knives at targets for the show since she was eleven. It was Kevin's idea to use himself as a target. Catherine opposed the idea at first, but he eventually talked her into it._

_"You hardly ever miss," he pointed out._

_"But, what if I do?" she countered. "I would die if I hurt you."_

_"You won't. I have faith in you," he said while wrapping an arm around her slender waist._

_She looked up into his soft yellow-brown eyes and could not say no to him. She knew it would be a wonderful act if they could pull it off. So they started practicing on it. It took her a while to get use to having a live target. At first she aimed her projectiles over a foot from her boyfriend._

_"Aim closer," he kept telling her._

_Slowly she gathered her nerve to throw the knives closer and closer. There were a few kinks along the way, but nothing major. By the time they were ready to perform the act, Catherine had it down cold. She was landing the knives within inches of Kevin's body, and the act was a crowd pleasure._

_After their act was such a success, Kevin brought up the subject of marriage once more. This time it was not a casual conversation like they had had in the past._

_He pulled Catherine aside as she emerged from the costume tent. She willingly went along finding it no different from the hundred other times he had done this. She smiled up at him with all the love she felt for him shining in her eyes and dancing on her smile. He returned the look and gave her a quick kiss._

_He held on to her hand tightly till they arrived at a somewhat secluded location._

_"Cathy, will you marry me?" he asked as he presented her with a diamond ring._

_Catherine's eyes widened to the shape of saucers at the sudden proposal._

_"Yes," she said._

_The excitement she felt fully displayed in the vocalization of the one little word._

_"Yes," she repeated._

_After a passionate kiss, Kevin slipped the ring on her finger._

_"It is not much, only a diamond chip really, but one day I will get you one that matches your beauty," he promised._

_"It's perfect," she reassured and placed a peck on his cheek._

_Kevin scooped her up, swung her around and whooped his joy at her acceptance. She only giggled at his enthusiasm and enjoyed her ride. The next thing to do was to tell everyone, and before the day was out, the entire circus knew of the betrothal._

_Kevin wanted to get married right away, but Catherine got him to wait at least two months so they could make some sort of plans. The time moved by swiftly till it was the weekend before the big day. That Sunday he ran into town to pick up a special gift for Catherine._

_The manager came searching for Catherine. There was a haunting worried look in his eyes as she turned to face him after he called her name._

_"Catherine, its Kevin…."_

_Right then and there, she knew something was wrong. She felt the pit of her stomach drop ten feet and her mouth went dry._

_"What's happened?" she demanded fighting to keep the panic out of her voice._

_"He was hit while he was crossing the street. A drunk didn't stop when he should have and plowed him over. They have him in the hospital now, but it does not look good."_

_Catherine was ready to bolt when the manager placed his hands on her shoulders._

_"You should wait for his parents and sister," he insisted._

_Once at the hospital she sprinted form the car to the main desk demanding to know where Kevin was. His family was not far behind. They were told he was still being stabilized and were escorted to a waiting room. Time ticked by slowly until a doctor came in to see them._

_"He is not in good condition," she stated before explaining the damage he had suffered and chances of recovery._

_"May we see him," sniffled his mother._

_The doctor gave her permission, but warned that he was in a coma._

_They each took their turn to visit the unconscious Kevin. He looked bad. His head was bandaged up, his face was swollen and turning blue and purple, and one arm and a leg were in a cast. The rest of him was covered with scrapes and lacerations._

_Catherine would not leave his side. The family insisted that she came with them, but she refused. After they left, she laid her head on his shoulder and cried._

_"Kevin, why? Why did this have to happen now?" she lamented. "We have been through so much more dangerous situations in our daily lives, and you get hit by a car. You have to pull through!" she demanded of him as tears rolled down her eyes. "We have plans, remember."_

_She sat there sobbing her grief and hoped the doctor was wrong and he would make it through with no brain damage._

_The days slowly slipped by, and Catherine and the family held a vigil at the hospital waiting for him to wake up. Each day the chances got slimmer. Several times a nurse or doctor would hustle them out of the room because some monitor went off. The final time was on Wednesday. The group waited for the doctor to enter and tell them things were once again stable, but when the doctor entered the room he came with no such news._

_"I'm sorry, your son is dead."_

_Immediately Kevin's mother started wailing and Elan to sniffling. Catherine stood there in shock. She had so believed that he would pull through, that they would live happily ever after, but that was not in the cards for her. First her family, her adopted father, and now her fiancé. Everyone she loved died. She felt it was her fault. Some how she had caused this terrible thing to happen, and she bolted from the room._

_On the day that should have been the happiest of her adult life, it was the saddest. Instead of the dress of white she had picked out, she wore a dress of black. And, on the day she should have been getting married, they buried Kevin._ I put down my pen and stair at the words before me. 

"Kevin, I miss you," I whisper. "I have moved on, but no one has filled the void you left." 

Tears gently stroll down my cheeks, and the feeling that I am destined to be alone fills me. The new environment and not having friends around is taking its toll on my mental wellbeing. I am sure given time, I will cultivate friendships in and around my new home, but that does not keep the pain of loneliness from stabbing my heart. 

My phone rings. I wipe away the tears and pick up the phone. It is Trowa returning my call. 

"Congratulation on your job," he says a slight smirk on his face. 

I am so glad to see the face of a friend I let it pass without thought. 

"So how is it going?" 

"So far I have only moved in. I start working on Monday. The place is nice. My living quarters are bigger than the apartment I had been renting, and I have access to a training room and other facilities in the house and grounds as long as Mr. Winner does not need them." 

"It sounds nice," Trowa says. "Have you meet Mr. Winner, yet?" he asks with an odd twinkle in his eye. 

If I did not know better, I would think that Trowa was up to something. 

"No, I have not. He is currently on earth for a peace meeting your wife is holding. Do you think they know each other?" I ask as the idea hits me. 

"There is that possibility," he states. "She rubs elbows with people of all types." 

I agree with his statement. Relena had friends among a wide variety of backgrounds. Anything from lowly circus performers to high ranking officials. 

"Trowa, I'm home, and guess who I brought home with me," Relena happily calls from the background. 

"Let me know when you meet him," Trowa says as Relena enters the room followed by a tall blond man. 

Even though he had changed, I recognize him. He was the young boy that had come to the circus looking for Trowa those many years ago, the one who admitted to being the cause of Trowa's memory loss. 

"Hello, Catherine," chirps Relena. "How's it going?" 

"Well, I found a job and start on Monday," I repeat my earlier statement. 

"Good luck," she offers. 

"Thanks. It looks like you have company," I say glancing at the figure in the background. He seems to be intently watching the conversation, "so I will let you go to attend to him. Talk to you later." 

After a round of farewells, we hang up. 

Talking to Trowa, no matter how briefly has made me feel better. I am so glad he came into my life. Now, that is something I can write about, but not tonight I realize as I look over at the clock.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%


	3. The New Job

Ironies of Life   
By West Wind   
Rating: PG   
Pairing: 4xC, 3xR   
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing characters. 

I just want to thank Lev, kmf, Angel Tsuiraku, Moonlight Star, and Nanashi for reviewing. Thanks I appreciate the comments, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story. I would have had this posted sooner, but my weekend got busy.   


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Chapter 3 - The New Job

My first day on the job, I follow Leah around and help her with the cleaning. We start upstairs with straitening up the used bedrooms, collecting towels, and cleaning. As we work, the short petit dark haired woman outlines the schedule various tasks are done on. Sheets are changed on Monday, laundry collected every other day, and other such items. 

"Mrs. Gilbert wants you to start out with just the upstairs till you get the hang of it," Leah says in her slightly accented voice. "I'll take the downstairs and serving meals. Eventually, we will alternate duties. It helps break up the monotony even if it is the same task, it is a different location," she chatters. 

Leah turns out to be one of the most talkative people I have met in a while. Each room or task brings a new topic to her, and she prattles on about it. I do find our time very informative and try to sort out the items that are obviously her personal bias on the subject. 

She gives me the rundown on the family history, of how Master Quatre's father was killed. 

"They say, Master Quatre disappeared for a time afterwards," she says. "He must have taken it pretty hard to go missing like that. It seems so unlike him. He is so dedicated to the business…" 

Leah continues to provide me with details on the "wonderful man" that was our employer. Next to her life or Enoch, Mr. Winner seems to be her favorite subject of conversation. 

"Oh, just wait till you meet him. He is in his early twenties, good-looking and single. One of the sweetest men you will ever meet. I am sure one of these days he will bring home a Mrs. Winner," she adds with a sigh. 

"Are you in love with him?" I find myself asking as I think of my story about Pat and Nick. 

"Love," she laughs. "No, not love. Definitely lust though. He does make for nice eye candy," she adds giving me a wink. "I have my sites set elsewhere," she informs me. 

"Enoch," I say. 

"That's the one, so keep you mitts off!" she ordered. 

I assure her I have no interest in Enoch other than a friend.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

I find myself settling into my new life quicker than I expected. The cleaning keeps me active, I get free time in the afternoons, I help in the kitchen in the evenings, and I have access to all the benefits the estate has to offer. Lee and I have a running tennis mach between us, and I use the weight room almost every morning. Life for me is looking up at the moment, and I am happy.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"Catherine, would you please take over for me?" I hear Leah ask. 

I look up from my task at her approach. 

"I have tickets to go to a concert with my friends and I need to start getting ready, but Mr. Winner did not get home and start dinner till late. If I wait till he is finished, I will be late," she pleads her case. 

"I'll do it," I agree knowing how important this was to her. 

It was all she had talked about all week. 

"I already gave him his food. All you have to do is to refill his glass periodically and see if he would like any more. He usually doesn't," she adds. "Thanks," she calls back as she dashed off. 

Well, now I would get to meet my new employer. In the two months I have been working here, I have seen no more of him than a retreating figure, a blur of movement, as he dashes out the door on his way to attend to business. A lot of time he is not even home. 

I have to admit I am slightly curious about him. Everyone has only the highest praise for and loyalty to the young man. I wonder what it is he does that pulls people to him and makes them feel so admit about him. 

I pick up the pitcher to fill his glass with. Entering the room, I see him sitting with his back to me. He appears to be average build, if not on the petite side. He is poring over some document he has with him at the table, as he flips a page before retrieving his silverware to sample his meal with. I approach from his right side concentrating on the glass I am to fill. It was close to empty. I extend my hand and claim the glass. I start to refill it when I see movement of his golden head out of the corner of my eye. 

"Thank you, Leah," he says in a smooth voice just as I saw his head move. "Catherine?" he questions surpassingly as he notices that I am not Leah. 

At the sound of my name, I avert my gaze from my task at hand and focus on the astonished face of my employer. I am amazed that he knows me when we have never been introduced. I did not even know if he knew of my existence here. It all becomes clear to me when I look into his face. It's him, the one that came for Trowa, and the one who hurt Trowa so badly. I am shocked, frozen in place, my mind bulks at the irony of the situation. 

"You…" I murmur. 

Before I can say any more, the glass I am filling overflows, I drop the glass, and it lands in his lap soaking his pants with ice cold water. He reacts to the sudden temperature and moisture change by standing up suddenly. His quick movement jostles the pitcher I am carrying, loosening my grip on it. It teeters in my hand splashing water out making it harder to hold. I grab at it with my other hand and it only seems to get worse. Half the content has splashed out on me, and the pitcher is threatening to slip to the floor to spite me. 

Two warm hands settle close to mine on the pitcher, steadying it. A soft laugh follows the nearly avoided disaster. I can see the glass I was filling on the floor with the wet carpet, and I can feel the crimson flush warming my face with my embarrassment. All of this occurred in a confusing and blurred few seconds 

"Sorry," he cheerfully says. 

I look into his blue eyes confused. I was the one who spilled the water on him to begin with. 

"Are you alright?" he asks. 

I stand there with mouth open trying to form some kind of response. My mind refuses to function in a smooth quick manner. 

He patiently waits for my reply. 

"I think so," I manage to squeak out. 

His smile widens at my response. 

"I'm sorry. I'll get it cleaned up," I say surprisingly while a part of me wishes I had something else to dump on him. 

He seems to eye me carefully before he nodes his consent. I feel like squirming under his gaze, but force myself to stand tall. That is when I notice he has grown since the last time I saw him many years ago and is now slightly taller than I am. With his node, I force myself to calmly walk back into the kitchen when my body is saying run and hide. 

Once in the kitchen, I lean on the wall next to the door and close my eyes. I mentally scream at the situation. I finally find a job, and it turns out to be _him_! I try to remember if I ever knew his name. I think back to that day he came looking for Trowa. He was a mixture of grief, relief and distraught when he saw Trowa. When I saw him, I lost it. How dare he come and try to take Trowa back to the life that brought him such pain that it caused him to loose his memory. He admitted that Trowa's condition was his fault and he was sorry. That is when I ordered him away from Trowa. I had promised to protect Trowa, and I was not going to let him hurt Trowa again. 

That did not keep Trowa from going after the young blond. Maybe it was a good thing, for he did come back to me as promised with memory recovered. To this day, I am still not clear on what actually happened that made Trowa loose his memory. Trowa is so closed lipped about it. 

"What happened to you?" asks Lee pulling me from my thoughts. 

"I spilled water on myself and the floor," I explain as I move off to get supplies to clean up the mess. 

Upon my return, Quatre and the papers he was looking at are no where to be seen. Relieve fills me. I did not know what I would say to him if he were here. I place one of the towels I brought with me on the floor and start blotting up the water from the carpet. My mind drifts back to my previous train of thought. 

Trowa had returned, only to disappear again without a word around a year later. I know it had something to do with the Barton family trying to take over the world, but once again he came back to me. 

Then the thought hit me that Trowa knew and he did not tell me. In fact, he had Quatre in his house while I was talking to him about it. He knew what he was doing, I realize as I think back to the conversation with him and the amused looks that crossed his face. The next time I talk to that boy, he is getting a chewing out I promise myself as I dab a bit more forcefully than necessary. There is a chuckle from behind me. 

"Is the carpet being contrary to deserve such rough treatment or is something else bothering you?" came a voice where the earlier laugh had originated. 

I look up and find Mr. Winner standing behind me in dry pants. I can not help but let my irritation show as I look at him. 

"Let me help," he offers. 

"It's my job. It's what I get paid for," I snap back defensively and almost immediately regret it. 

His smiling face changes briefly. I catch glimpses of what I interpret to be sadness, regret or hurt and a thoughtful look before the slight smile returned. 

"Trowa didn't warn either of us," he says as if he can read my mind and what is my most recent irritation. 

A brief look of satisfaction and triumph crosses his face at his obvious correct assessment of the situation while I try to force my annoyance and irritation down and am unsuccessful at keeping it from showing by Mr. Winner's reaction. I finish my task, start gathering up the towels, and move to stand up. Unfortunately, I have not moved out from under the table far enough and smack my head on the edge. That only adds to my quickly downward spiraling evening. 

I let out a brief ouch at the pain of the impact and move my hand to the back of my head as I roll into an upright kneeling position and sink till my rear rests on my heels. 

"Are you alright?" Mr. Winner asks. 

His words are heavy laden with concern almost to the extent of being melodramatic. 

"I'm find," I reply with an exasperated sigh before removing my hand. 

As I bring my hand down I notice the spots of crimson on its surface. I quickly try to hide them from my hovering employer by grabbing the wet towel. Suddenly my wrist is caught in a firm grip and my hand turned over. 

"No, you're not," he emphatically states as he sees the spots of blood. "You're bleeding!" 

"It's nothing I can't deal with," I tell him pushing him away. 

It is then that I feel a small trickle of liquid make its way down my neck. He grabs his damp napkin from earlier and wipes away the blood before making me hold it to the back of my head. 

"Let's take a look at that," he suggests in a voice that hints that he would not take no for an answer, and I did not feel like fighting with him at the moment. 

With his help, I stand and he guides me to the hall bathroom. 

"Stay there and keep pressure on that. I'll be back in a moment," he says before dashing off. 

I sink onto the closed toilet and feel the headache start to form between my eyes. The pain slowly radiates out through my forehead. I close my eyes until I hear Mr. Winner return. He enters with a first aid kit in hand. He gently peals back the napkin to examine the wound, and I drop my hand to my lap to allow blood to flow to it once again. He has me hold the cloth to my head briefly while I hear him open the first aid kit he set on the back of the toilet and rummage around a bit before I catch a glimpse of what he got out. He opens the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and looks at me. 

"This might sting a bit," he warns before exposing the wound again. 

He mostly disappears behind me and has me tip my head down slightly. I feel the cool liquid being poured on my scalp. When the liquid contacts the blood, the stinging begins as they react and foam. I wince slightly at the expected sting of the disinfecting process. He replaces the now hydrogen peroxide soaked cloth. 

"It's not deep," I hear him say from above me. "I thing this will seal it nicely until it heals." 

I try to turn my head to see what he is referring to, but he keeps me from moving it with words and hands. 

"What do you have?" I ask frustrated to not know what was going on. 

"Liquid skin," he replies. 

I know immediately what he is talking about. I used it often when I nicked myself with my knives. It was basically glue for skin. I sit still so he can work. He removes the cloth and parts my hair for access to the cut. I feel him place the thick emulsion on my skin and spread it over the laceration. Once the goo is distributed to his satisfaction, he blows gently on it to help it dry. Between his closeness and his breath on the back of my head and down my neck, it causes chills to run down my spine. I force myself to hold still. Ever since I was little, I have hated people talking or breathing very close to my neck. It causes every neuron in my spine to fire in undulating waved up and down my back causing the connecting muscles to spasm. It would always cause me to arch my shoulders up and cringe and shake as if I was chilled. As children Kevin would always do that to me because he knew it bugged me. 

"There," says Mr. Winner in a soft caring voice as he allows my hair to fall back in place, "that should take care of the cut. Let me check you eyes." 

Before I knew it, he is before me, squatting to eye level to me looking from one eye to the other making sure they were dilating correctly to verify I did not have a concussion. Having done it numerous times myself to my injured circus workers, I sit there patiently staring into his blue eyes. 

"Do I pass," I ask. 

He nods and allows me to stand. 

"You might want to take it easy," he cautions. 

I node and leave the small room to finish cleaning up the dinning room. I quickly finish my task and haul the dishes to the kitchen for cleaning. 

"Getting a little cozy with Master Quatre, I see," Lee teases me when I enter. 

I just glare at him as if his comment is so unworthy of a response as I deposit my tub of dishes by the sink. Lee only laughs at me more. 

"So what were you two doing in the bathroom," he asks with a suggestive bobbing of his eyebrows. 

"If you truly must know," I state on the edge of loosing the last bit of restraint I have, "I hit my head, and he attended to it." 

"Did he kiss it and make it better?" Lee continued to jest. 

I let out a low growl before turning and retreating to my room.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A knock on my door pulls me from my musings. I force myself up and to the door. I look out the peephole to see who it is. I open the door and let Enoch in. 

"So I hear you finally met Master Quatre," he says jibely with an amused smile on his face. 

I glare at him before rolling my eyes and collapsing into a chair. He plops down on my couch and looks at me expectantly. I marvel as how quickly news travels around among the help. I also ponder how much to reveal about my previous meetings with Master Quatre and opt to keep that quiet for the time being. 

"So what happened?" 

"I spilled water on the floor and Mr. Winner when filling his glass. When I finished cleaning up the water, I smacked my head on the table and he attended to the wound." I tell him the unembellished details. "I feel like such a clumsy idiot," I sigh. 

"Don't worry about it," he reassures. "Master Quatre won't think of you badly for that. He understands accidents happen." 

_"Some accidents can have tragic results,"_ I think to myself remembering Trowa. 

I am not so worried about the water incident as our previous encounters. I let the issue fall aside for another time and direct the conversation to safer topics. 

Enoch leaves after a bit of teasing, and I head to the phone. Relena answers. 

"Catherine, how's the job going?" 

"Today was not so good," I answer. "Is Trowa around?" I ask with a bit of an edge to my voice. 

Relena looks at me questioningly as she answers. 

"Yeah, I'll get him for you." 

"Relena," I call before she leaves. "Did Trowa ever tell you where I was working?" 

She pauses and ponders my question. 

"You know, he did leave that detail out," she says. 

It is nice to know that Relena was not in on this too. 

"Where are you working?" she asks. 

"Ask Trowa after I finish talking to him," I advise. 

She knows something is up, but is smart enough to wait and find out what. Trowa comes to the vid-phone. 

"You meet him," he says matter of factly with one look at me. 

"Yes!" I say with as much irritation I can put into the one word. "**YOU KNEW** and did **NOT** tell me!" I practically yell at him. 

He sits there unaffected by my tirade as I continue to fling accusations at him. I wind down finally and just glare at him with my arms crossed. He just smirks at me. I let out a growl of frustration. 

"So how did you finally meet him?" he asks. 

I cave and tell him the entire story. He actually chuckles as I tell him about the water, and I have to admit looking at it from a different light, it was sort of funny. I even tell him about Quatre tending to my injury. 

"That's Quatre for you. Compassionate to almost a fault," says Trowa, his eyes seem to dance with some hidden knowledge that I can not get out of him. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%


	4. Neena

Ironies of Life   
By West Wind   
Rating: PG   
Pairing: 4xC, 3xR   
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing characters. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Chapter 4 - Neena

One of Quatre's many sisters, Neena, is going to be staying for a couple weeks, Mrs. Gilbert informs me. I make sure that the designated room is ready for her and continue on with my normal routine. 

Neena arrives before dinner and Mrs. Gilbert welcomes her home. They hug as if they are family. I stand off to one side waiting to escort Miss Winner to her room. They pull away and Mrs. Gilbert turns to me. 

"This is Catherine," she says introducing me to the new arrival. 

She eyes me curiously before exchanging looks with Mrs. Gilbert that I could not fathom the meaning of. Once Neena finishes her silent exchange with Mrs. Gilbert, she shakes my hand in greeting with a very warm smile. I take her bags and follow her to her room. Once in, I set the bags down by the dresser. 

"So how long have you been working here," she asks. 

"Three months," I reply, "Is there anything else you need," I ask professionally. 

"No, I am fine. What time is dinner tonight?" 

"It is set for six thirty," I tell her. 

She nods and I leave.   


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The next morning I rise early to workout as usual in the exercise machine room. When I finish with that I move to what I call the dance room. It is just an open room with wooden floor. One wall is covered with mirrors with a ballet bar attached. There are various mats stacked around the room that make it grate for me to practice my acrobatics, but this morning I was only planing to use it to stretch out. 

Upon entering the room a strange music meets my ears. Neena is in the room moving gracefully to the music. She notices my entrance before I have a chance to retreat. 

"You don't have to leave on my account," she says. 

I stop my retreat and slowly move to the bar to stretch out. I can't help but watch her movements in the mirror as I stretch. Curiosity finally gets the best of me. 

"What are you doing?" I ask as I finish. 

"Bellydancing," she says. "I find it an excellent way to keep in shape, and it is fun." 

She then starts into an obvious routine using each of the moves I had seen her practicing earlier. She is exquisite to watch with the smooth flow of her body from one movement to another. I clap when she finishes, and she bows slightly to me. 

"Come! Try it," she invites. 

"No, I don't think I can move like that," I say shaking my head. 

Neena moves towards me, grabs my hands, and pulls me over to where she was standing earlier. 

"I'll break it down and take it one step at a time." 

She starts with what she calls warm up exercises that teach individual movements used in the dance. She follows that up with combining a few of them together. She patiently helps me get my form right and repeats the parts I have trouble with. I am surprised at how quickly I pick up and adapt to the movements. All the training at the circus must have helped. She then combines various movements into a short dance for me to learn. Our first time through, my eyes are glued to her reflection as I mimic her movements the best I can. She starts to instruct me on what areas I need to work on, when I see her glance quickly at the mirror. 

"We have an audience," she says then gets a mischievous look in her eyes. 

I glance to see what had caught her attention. There lurking in the doorway was Quatre dressed in a T-shirt and loose fitting slacks. 

"He might not remember, but when Quatre was little he use to watch us practice enthralled," she voiced louder than she had spoken previously, yet not unusually loud. "He even got pretty good at it himself," she adds. "I bet you could still do it," she teases as she looks challengingly at her brother. 

Quatre turns red in the face at her ribbing. She moves over to him. Places her arms over his shoulders. 

"Too embarrassed to dance with you sister anymore," she taunts. 

He looks at the floor and says nothing, as his face grows redder. She laughs before giving him a gentle squeeze and letting him go. I look at my watch and realize what time it is. 

"I have to go," I gasp. "I'll be late for work." 

Neena smiles at me and says, "don't worry about it, I'll talk to you boss so you don't get into trouble." 

She gives her brother a nudge. He looks up at me. 

"Don't worry about it," he assures. 

I gather up my things and dash off to my room. I shower quickly and throw on my uniform so I can serve breakfast. I make my way to the kitchen to await the call from Quatre and his sister indicating that they are ready to eat. Lee looks at me quizzically. 

"Cutting it close," he says. 

"Yeah, I know. Got caught up in my morning exercising," I say.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The next morning Neena was waiting for me. 

"Up to trying it again?" she asks cheerfully. 

I give in to her request and follow her lead through the now somewhat familiar movements. As the days pass, I start getting the hang of it. I am nowhere as good as Neena, but I am learning the basics and enjoying myself. Neena is fun to be with as well. 

I found myself using muscles I did not know I had. By the next weekend, I actually had a routine down and could execute it flawlessly. As we finished the dance, clapping comes from the back of the room. 

"So you did take up my offer to join us," Neena says to Quatre. 

"It's not everyday I get to spend time with you," he says and smiles tenderly at her. "Even if it means making a fool of myself." 

She laughs and embraces him. He places a light kiss on her cheek. I overt my eyes from the touching scene, feeling like an interloper on such a tender moment between the two. I prepare to leave and let the siblings enjoy their time together. 

"Where do you think your going?" Neena inquires. 

I turn back to them. 

"I thought you two would like to spend time together," I shrug. 

"You don't have to go. I want you to stay and Quatre doesn't mind." 

Reluctantly I stay with them. Neena stands between her brother and I. 

"Do you remember any of this?" she asks him. 

"Vaguely," he replies. "I couldn't have been more than four at the time." 

"Try five," she shoots back before turning to me. "You should have seen him, he was sooo cute," she tells me, "and indulgent of our whims. We did all sorts of things to the poor boy, and he did not bat an eye. I still have a picture of him dressed up as a girl," she giggles. 

I notice her brother is turning red with each bit of history she reveals, but he lets her have her fun. 

"I think every older sister does something like that to her younger brothers," I say. 

"Did you do that to yours?" Neena asks. 

Not really focusing on her I answer her question. 

"I lost my brother when I was young," I reply, sadness clinging to my softly spoken words. 

"I'm sorry," she says concerned. 

She places a comforting hand on my shoulder. 

"It was long ago," I say trying to shrug it off. "I have Trowa now. He is like a brother to me, but I doubt if he would let me dress him up as a girl. Throw knives at him, yes. Dress as a girl, no." 

Quatre snickered at the idea of trying to get Trowa dressed like a girl, and I soon joined in unable to surprises the image conjured up in my mind's eye. We are both soon laughing till we are gasping for breath. Neena looks at us oddly. 

"You would have to know Trowa," Quatre offers as an explanation. 

After that we get down to business. Quatre struggles at first with the unfamiliar movements. 

"Neena, a guy just is not built to move like a woman does," he comments. 

She would not give up. 

"Watch Catherine do it," she says. 

She restarts the music and I demonstrate the requested movements. His eyes glued to my body's movements the entire time. 

Neena finally calls an end to poor Quatre's torture session. 

"I am going to get cleaned up," she says before walking out the door. 

Quatre stands there while I gather my things. I can tell he has something he wants to ask, and I look at him questioningly. 

"Please, don't tell Trowa. I'll never here the end of it," he asks. 

I briefly get a devilish look in my eyes at the thought. Looking into his pleading blue eyes, I can not keep up my mischievous facade. I assure him that Trowa would not hear of our morning adventure from me. 

He looks relieved and flashes me what I have daubed his special smile. It seems to light up his entire being when it appears on his face and warms who ever is the object of it. He does not use it often and only with specific people. It is usually people he is close to like Trowa, one of the other pilots, or a sister. Sometimes it appears when he is sitting alone lost in his own thoughts. 

Quatre turns on his heal and walks out the door. I watch him leave thinking about his awkwardness at the beginning to the smooth fluid movements he had displayed at the end and smile softly to myself. 

_"His eyes are a blue like the ocean,"_ I think to myself, _"and he still seems to have a boyish quality to him,"_ I continue my assessment as if I was going to write about him. 

I realize he is the one person in the household I have not written much about.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Watching Neena and Quatre interact, makes me think of Trowa. Ever since he joined the circus, I have felt connected to him some how. _Trowa Barton mysteriously appeared and joined Catherine's circus. He was a quiet man and assigned to be Catherine's partner. Upon their first meeting Catherine explained the act to him and asked if he was comfortable with it._

_"It sounds easy enough," he replied._

_That was what the last prospect had said, but when it came time to be the target, he chickened out._

_"Shall we give it a try?" asked Catherine._

_Trowa nodded, and they proceed to the tent. He stood before the board and Catherine prepared to throw knives at him. She let one fly. He didn't flinch so she tossed another. He was an excellent target, and Catherine was happy to have a partner once again._

_She showed him around like the manager had asked. He did not say much, but asked a few questions here and there. Catherine found herself taking a liking to him immediately. Not in the romantic way, but in a take him under her wing, sisterly way. She pondered over it that night. Trowa's eyes reminded her of her mother's. Some of his mannerisms would bring back memories of her father. Before drifting off to sleep, she came to the conclusion that he reminded her of Triton, her younger brother._

_She had adored her younger brother even if she did not always show it. He was only a year or two younger than she was, and she loved to playfully tease the quiet boy. Being his sister, she knew what buttons to push to get a reaction out of him._

_They were different was an understatement. Where she was forward and outgoing, he was quiet and shy. She talked all they time, and he spoke only when it was important. He probably talked with her more than anyone else. The two of them would spend hours playing together and sharing secrets._

_It saddened Catherine that her young brother never had a chance to finish growing up with her. It would have been nice to still have him around. It might have made growing up easier. He always seemed to know what she was feeling before she told him. He was dead along with her parents. His body was ever found, but it was believed that some predator might have made off with his body in the time it took for them to find her and her family. That thought made Catherine cringe._

_~~_

_Trowa was a bit of a mystery to everyone, but that did not stop Catherine from being his friend. He would come and go with no pattern to his disappearances. Eventually Catherine learned that her new partner was a Gundam pilot, and he was using the circus as a cover to move his Gundam around unnoticed._

_With that knowledge, she prayed that he was safe and would return soon. He always had till one time he was gone for quite a while. Time rolled by, and Catherine was beginning to think something bad had happened to him._

_~~_

_The form of a lanky man emerged from the shadows. Catherine gasped as the figure staggered close enough to see._

_"Trowa?" she softly called before running toward the long banged boy._

_The boy stumbled and fell to his knees. Catherine was immediately by his side. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck._

_"Trowa!" she repeated over and over again as she internally wept for the haggard state he was in._

_It was because of the fighting that he was in such poor shape._

_"Oh, Trowa," She motherly cooed as she pulled back to look at him._

_"You know me?" he meekly questioned._

_Catherine's eyes widened at the fact that he did not recognize her._

_"Trowa, it's me, Catherine," she implored. "You can not have forgotten me already?"_

_Tears teetered on her lower eyelids. The one person she had taken into her heart as family in a long time did not recognize her._

_"I .. don't … remember," he said slowly and strained with eyes shut tight as if it caused him pain. "I don't even .. remember … who I am."_

_"Oh, Trowa," she lamented as she held him protectively. "What happened to you?"_

_She took him to her trailer, pulled out a change of cloths from those he had left behind, and gave him a hot meal. The entire time he seemed lost and confused, but did as she instructed him. Catherine's hear sorrowed for the lost Trowa, and she vowed to protect him. While he ate she explained that he was her brother Trowa. His eyes betrayed his guilt at not knowing her._

_"Don't worry about it," she assured. "Get a good night's rest, and I will help you get familiar with everything again in the morning."_

_He looked back at her looking like an unsure child, and she encouragingly smiled at him to go on. He disappeared into his room, and Catherine rested her head on her hand and sighed. She pondered what horrible thing happened to him out there that he felt he had to forget._

_The next morning as they ate quietly, Trowa, looked up at her as if remembering._

_"We have a knife throwing act," he said almost questioningly._

_"Yes," Catherine encouraged._

_~~~_

_Catherine explained to the fellow circus performers about Trowa's situation before showing him around. As time passed, Trowa settled into his previous life yet not much came back to him. He seemed to swing from competent performer to insecure child, especially when he did not know what to do or where something went. He would always turn to Catherine for direction at such times. Catherine took to her roll of big sister to the younger boy and easily forgot that they were not related by blood. He was her family now and she was going to protect him the best she could._

_~~~_

_Catherine watched as Trowa ran down the path to help his friend. He was gone again. He was so stubborn and such a fool, and she told him such as he left. She feared that he would not come back at all this time. Tears trickled down her cheeks._

_"Keep your promise and come back to me, Trowa, preferably unharmed," she whispered clinging to his parting words._

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Previous Chapter ~*~ Story Table of Contents ~*~ Next Chapter

~* ~ Main ~*~ Fic Page ~*~


	5. Surprises

Ironies of Life   
By West Wind   
Rating: PG   
Pairing: 4xC, 3xR   
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing characters.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Chapter 5 - Surprises

I sit in one of the reclining lawn chairs with notebook and pen in hand while I watch Quatre romp around the yard with Sandrock. The light brown puppy had been a departing gift to Quatre from Neena. Neena thought Quatre needed something to take his mind off of work. The two have been playing for the last fifteen minutes or so and covered every inch of the yard doing it. They are fun to watch. 

Sandrock is having a blast playing. Quatre pulls out a tennis ball and tosses it. 

"Go get it!" he commands. 

Sandrock is off almost before the ball is released. She zigzags across the grass as the ball hits a clump of grass and is bounced in a new direction. She overshoots the ball's resting-place before she scoops it up in her mouth to return it to her master. 

They repeat the process, and I return to my writing. 

The sound of the ball bouncing on stone pulls me from my sentence, and I know I am in trouble as the wayward ball bounces into my lap. Sandrock quickly follows. She has forgotten the ball, and I have become the object of her attention. I squirm as she licks my face enthusiastically. One would think she was greeting a long lost friend and not someone who petted her less than an hour ago as she joyfully assaults me. I try to get her calmed down. 

Quatre comes to my rescue. He pulls the ever-growing pup off me and gets her attention with a tug rope. 

"Are you O.K?" he asks me. 

"I'm fine," I laugh as I wipe dog drool off my face with my sleeve. 

"Here," says Quatre offering me his handkerchief. 

I accept and continue the drying off process. 

"I guess I got her a bit too wound up," he says as Sandrock pulls at the rope he holds. 

"No damage done," I assure as I organize my papers that I was writing on. 

"What are you working on?" Quatre asks as he sits in a chair beside me. 

Sandrock lays down at his feet and chews on the rope held between her front paws. 

"Oh… I am just writing," I shrug off. 

"What are you writing?" 

I blush slightly before answering. 

"I might sound silly, but I have been working on my life story," I admit. 

"It does not sound silly to me," he says encouragingly. "How far are you?" 

"That is hard to say," I explain. "I just pick sections of my life and start writing about it. There is not a real rhyme or reason to it." 

"How long have you been working on it?" 

"I started between leaving the circus and getting my job here," I divulge. "It was something to do with all my free time that I did not fill with physical activity. I found I like it," I shrug. 

"We all should have a hobby," he encourages. 

"What's yours?" I ask knowing how busy he is. 

"I have a few," he admits. "I use Origami to occupy me between meetings." 

I lightly laugh as he takes a piece of paper from me and turns it into a bird. 

"We all have secret talents don't we," I point out. 

"That we do," he agrees. 

He stands to leave but pauses. 

"May I read what you have written so far?" he asks. 

I hesitate for a moment before answering. 

"If you really want to, you may," I slowly respond. "I can get it from my room." 

"I'll just stop by sometime, and you can give it to me then," he says before leaving with Sandrock at his heels. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% 

I step out of the shower, wrap a towel around me and move into my room. It has been a long day and the shower helped me to unwind. I start putting lotion on when there is a nock at my door. I hurriedly slip on my robe and secure it shut on my way to the door. 

"Coming," I call unsure if the person on the other side can hear me. 

"Quatre!" I exclaim shocked to see him there. 

"Sorry to interrupt you," he says slightly embarrassed as he takes in my appearance. 

I am sure I was a mess to look at with no makeup and wet drooping curls. 

"Here for the autobiography?" I ask knowing the answer as I usher him in. 

"Yes," he confirms. 

I gather up the several volumes with the handwritten history in it and hand them to him. 

"I'll warn you now that it will not flow smoothly together. I just write about the segments of my life or about specific people as the muse hits me," I explain. "It might be a bit confusing." 

"I am sure I will figure it out," he smiles at me before flipping through the top book. "All of it hand written?" 

"I like being able to write anywhere without lugging a bunch of equipment," I shrug. "My own idiosyncrasy I guess." 

He accepts my answer and smiles. 

"I look forward to reading it," he says, and I genuinely believe he is. 

"I don't know why," I murmur. 

He hears it and gets a twinkle in his eyes. It is very similar to the look Trowa had when I yelled at him for not telling me Quatre and the blond pilot were the same person. It is as if Quatre knows some secret that I do not. 

"One day you will," he says as he moves toward the door. "Goodnight, Catherine."   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"Are you sure you don't need me to work this weekend?" I ask Mrs. Gilbert. "Won't you need extra hands since Master Quatre is having guests." 

For the past week, I have been hearing Leah grumbling about me not working this weekend. 

"Everything is taken care of," she assured. 

"Is there anything I can do to help get ready," I ask. 

"Yes, there is. Master Quatre was wanting help on a project." 

I go in search of Quatre. I find him and explain why I am here. He nods before telling me to follow him. We move up the stairs to the upper floor. He opens a door to reveal a storage room. 

I look around at the stack of boxes and trunks covered with cobwebs and dust. 

"No one has been in here for a while have they," I observe. 

"No," he admits. "This room contains my mother things. After she died, Father had everything that reminded him of her put in here. I use to play in here as a child," his words ended dreamily as he got lost in memories. 

He pulls himself back to the present. 

"There was a flute in here someplace. It was not where I remember it being so I wanted help to search." 

He described its case, and we start our search. I come across a box of pictures. I pull a few out. There was one of a young child taking a step while being steadied by a teen girl. The handwriting on the back indicated the child as Quatre and the girl as one of his sisters. Quatre leans over to see what has caught my attention. 

"Its you as a baby," I say. 

I flip through a few more, mostly of Quatre. 

"You were a cute baby," I comment. 

"Aren't I still cute?" he asks and looks at me with the most innocent look. 

"If I say yes, you might get an inflated ego, and if I so no, it might cost me my job," I tease. "So it is best if I don't answer that." 

He gives a snort of laughter and allows me to get by without answering. 

After more searching, he finally finds what he is looking for. I watch as he opens the case on his lap and gently runs his hand over the instrument. All of the sudden his head snaps up as he closes the case. 

"They're here," he announces. 

I look at him puzzled. There is nothing in the room that would indicate his guests have arrived, yet, he was sure they have. 

"Just trust me," he says as he grabs my hand and pulls me after him. 

He stops briefly at his room to drop off the instrument. I suggest he at least brush the dust off his cloths and messed up hair. He runs a comb quickly through his hair and brushes off his cloths before heading out the door. 

"You coming, Catherine?" he asks from the hallway. 

I follow him down the stairs to the front door just as a couple finished putting down their things. Recognition comes as they turn toward us. I do not allow my surprise to show much and surprises a laugh at the reason why I was not working this weekend. 

"Catherine," says Relena as Quatre catches up her husband in a friendly hug. "It's good to see you again."   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Dinner went well. It was just odd for me to be on the other side of the serving tray. The four of us sat around the cozy room after dinner and talked. I have not seen Relena and Trowa in the flesh since they got married. 

"Did you know Catherine has become an author?" Quatre asks Trowa and Relena. 

They both look at me intrigued, and I explain to them how it had started. 

"So I started with how I lost my parents and my brother," I explain. 

"What happened to them?" asks Relena moving slightly forward in her seat. 

I summarize the tragedy that made me an orphan. 

"You never found his body, how sad. Do you think he could still be alive?" Relena inquires. 

"I guess there is that possibility," I reluctantly admit. "If he is, I don't know how I would find him or recognize him." 

"I have some connections, let me do some inquiring for you. I might be able to find him or find out what happened to him," she offers. 

I hesitate before agreeing to her offer. Could he still be alive? 

"I don't want you to spend lots of time on it," I caution. 

"It won't be that much," she reassures me. "I will need to know what you can remember about him and where you were attacked to help with the search." 

I give her the details I can remember from childhood and what my adopted father had told me. 

"In many ways Trowa reminds me of him. He has green eyes like Mom and his hair color is close to Dad's," I say. 

"Were there any other characteristics that would help identify him?" 

"He did have a birthmark," I say. 

"What did it look like?" she asks. 

"It sort of looked like a trident like Poseidon or Triton would have. Mom and Dad named him Triton because of it," I explain. "In a way, it was kind of twisted on our parents' part, but the family was the only ones to know of it." 

"Where was this birthmark?" ask Relena almost insistently while she and Trowa look at me attentively. 

"His right…, no, left butt cheek." 

Relena laughs for no apparent reason, and Trowa look like he is in shock. Quatre and I exchange quick questioning looks before Relena calms enough to explain. 

"I think he will be easier to find than you might think," she says cryptically. 

"What do you know?" prods Quatre. 

"I believe there is good reason you think of Trowa as your brother," she says with a wide smile on her face. 

"I have such a birthmark," Trowa states, "in such a location." 

"I can attest to it," volunteers his wife. "I would suggest a blood test to verify it, but he fits." 

The irony of the situation hits me full force, and I just start laughing. I laugh so hard there are tears in my eyes, then I start crying and crumple in my chair. 

"It's alright, Cathy," gently assures Trowa by my side. 

I grab his hand. 

"I know," I sniffle. "It's just I thought all my family dead for so long, and here you have been with me for several years now. Oh, Trowa," I lament and throw my arms around his neck and bury my tear stained face into his shoulder. 

The next day we see about having tests ran on our blood. It is going to take a few days for them to run the needed tests, but I can wait. Even if he is not my brother, it will not affect the way I feel about Trowa, and if he is, that mystery in my life will be solved.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Trowa and Relena left Monday morning and I am back to my normal routine. As I work, the anticipation of the outcome of the blood tests keeps nibbling at my mind like a grazing animal. I try to ignore it since the outcome will not affect my relationship with Trowa, but it would be nice to know to whatever degree of certainty the tests could provide that Triton did survived. 

Since Wednesday afternoon is so dreary with the constant drizzle outside, I opt to loose myself in a book in my room. A knock at my door and Quatre's excited call of "Catherine" pulls me from reading. I let him in. He is caring a large white envelope, and excitement dances in his eyes. 

"Here they are," he says while waving the envelope at me. 

"What?" I ask slightly confused by his unusually exuberant mannerisms. 

"The test results," he replies. "I had them call me when they were complete and went to pick them up myself. 

I freeze and stare at the envelope Quatre is offering my. The moment of truth was here. My hand slowly moves up to take the item from him. I am mesmerized as I hold the results in my hands. Quatre looks at me anxiously waiting for me to open it. 

After taking and releasing a deep breath, I run my finger under the flap breaking the seal. I pull out the contents and start reading. It takes a bit to read all the professional jargon and find the section that put it into terms I can understand. 

Quatre squirms with anticipation but is polite enough to wait till I am done to tell him the verdict. 

"Well?" he inquires. 

I can feel my eyes light up and a smile explode on my face as I answer. 

"There is a 90% chance that we are related. Combine that with the other factors and there is a 99% chance that he is Triton, which is as good as a 100% to me," I announce. 

"That's wonderful," Quatre declares as he catches me up in a hug and we dance around the room in our joy. 

We finally stop spinning and laugh. 

"He's my brother," I keep repeating amazed. 

I could see in his blue eyes that Quatre is as excited for me as I am. Then I realize how close we are. We are standing in the enclosure of each other's arms with bodies almost touching. A slight blush encroaches around the edges of my face, and I pull away from him. 

"Thanks for bringing me the results," I say trying to hid the slight uncomfort I suddenly felt in his presence. 

"It was no trouble. I am happy that you both have found your lost family," he says before he lets himself out. 

I call Trowa to tell him before I try to return to my book. I find the book no longer interests me, and I find myself thinking about Quatre. I seem to relive each moment of his time in my quarters, especially the feel of his arms around me. It felt so nice to be held again, even if it was Quatre. Leah's comment about Quatre being cute and eye candy resurfaced, and I let out a small laugh. I did have to admit he was nice to look at. I try to dismiss the thoughts as just my longing for a man and left it at that.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%


	6. Quatre’s Holiday

Ironies of Life   
By West Wind   
Rating: PG   
Pairing: 4xC, 3xR   
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing characters.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Chapter 6 - Quatre's Holiday

I clean while my mind wonders back to the questions from yesterday, when the object of my thoughts enters the room on his way to his office. His special smile plastered across his face. 

"Happy thoughts?" I can not help but ask. 

He pauses on his trek and turns his smile toward me. I feel like a sun is flaring inside me radiating heat throughout my entire body and my knees feel like they will buckle. I manage to stay upright and nonchalantly place my hand on the back of a nearby chair to steady myself. 

"You could say that," he replies with eyes dancing with mirth before disappearing into his office. 

I stand there looking at the closed door he has disappeared through. With his absence, the room feels like it had dropped fifteen degrees, and I absent-mindedly rub my upper arms to fight off the chill. I force myself back to my job and finish cleaning the room. 

After finishing up my morning tasks, I escape to my room. 

_"What is going on with me,"_ I ask myself. "_I can't be falling for him. He hurt Trowa, but Trowa has obviously forgiven him. You don't know what exactly happened or what was behind it. From what Mrs. Gilbert and Leah have said, he has been through some hard times. Well, we all go through hard times_," I continue to argue with myself. 

I shake my head gently and decide I need to do something active. I put on my exercise cloths and tennis shoes. I pull my hair back into a small ponytail before leaving my room. I head out the back door and ease into a jog around the grounds. I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping my pace steady. I push the perplexing thought from my mind and enjoy the well cared for grounds of the estate. As I circle back to the house, I near Quatre's office window. From a distance I can see the window is open and a figure is sitting on the sill. 

"It is such a beautiful day out, isn't it?" Quatre asks as I move before the window. 

I stop and agree with his assessment. 

"Look, that cloud looks like a train," he points up as he leans out the window a bit further so he can see the sky. 

I look at the cloud he indicated and hear the sound of something hitting the ground. I look back at the window and find Quatre missing. My eyes continue their downward movement to the rustling sound below the window. Quatre is in the process of standing up and dusting the mulch from the flowerbed off. 

"What happened?" I ask. 

"I lost my grip and fell," he says slightly embarrassed. 

I laugh and am sorry I missed it. 

"Oh, well, it is too nice a day to be inside anyway," he adds as if it covers his earlier error and smiles sheepishly at me. 

"Master Quatre?" we can here Rashid's voice coming from the room I had been cleaning earlier. 

I suddenly find myself pulled behind one of the near by shrubs as Rashid enters the room. Quatre places a finger to his puckered lips motioning for me to stay quiet. 

"Master Quatre?" Rashid says again but is greeted with nothing but an empty room with an open window. 

Through the shrub we can see his bulky form leaning slightly out the window. Rashid looks back and forth scanning the area for the errant company owner. Glancing over at Quatre, his eyes sparkle with playfulness. The larger man lets out a heavy sigh and moves away from the window. Quatre holds me in place until we hear the door shut as Rashid exits. 

"Let's go," he says grasping my hand and hauling me with him. 

After about three steps, I dig in my heels and force him to stop. 

"What are you doing?" I demand slightly ticked at being abducted. 

"Taking the afternoon off," he replies as if there was nothing unusual about it or dragging me with him. "Come on," he adds as he pulls with just enough pressure to get me moving again, "before they see us." 

By now all sorts of questions are coursing through my mind, and I voice the most important one. 

"But, what does that have to do with me?" I ask confused as I stumble along behind him. 

"Oh, I guess they never mentioned my occasional disappearing act to you," he says thoughtfully before opening the door to the garage and entering. "Get in, and I will explain," he says opening the passenger side door of a convertible. 

I am ready to be obstinate and stand beside the car with arms crossed. 

"Please get in," he softly says. 

I can see in his eyes that he so wants me to go wherever he is headed, and he smiles sweetly at me. After a few seconds, I find myself caving in and climb into the car. He shuts the door while I fasten the safety harness. He is quickly around the car sliding into his seat. He punches the button to open the garage door and starts the car. The radio instantly blares alive with a heavy beat pounding in the background. After throwing it into reverse, he pulls out of the garage, turns, and heads forward out of the drive. We are soon on the road, and I have no idea where we are headed. I reach over and turn down the volume and ask him once again why I am here. 

"What does you taking the afternoon off have to do with me in a car with you?" I ask over the blowing wind from the moving car. 

I try pushing back the whipping strands of hair away from my face uncessessfuly as I wait for a reply. 

"Every so often, I decide I need to take a day off and do something fun," he starts with a quick glance at me. "Since it is more fun to do things with someone else, I grab whoever is handy when the mood strikes and take them with me." 

"Your telling me you just dump what you are doing, grab the nearest person, and take off?" I question while waving my hand in the air to emphasize my words. "I guess I have to believe it, 'cause here I am," I answer my own question. "How often do you do this and who do you take?" I ask trying to remember anyone missing since I got here. 

A slight smirk briefly touches his lips. 

"Anywhere from every month to every six," he says. "Last time I took Enoch." 

Thinking back I do remember a day several months back that Enoch was nowhere to be found. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks me. 

I look at him as if he is insane. He only chuckles at my confusion before he starts to clarify it for me. 

"When I go on these _holidays_, I want to get away from work and enjoy life, experience new things. I find out what the person I am with wants to do and that is at least one of the things we do that day. With Enoch, we went to a demolition derby the last time. Leah wanted to go antique shopping. Mrs. Gilbert wanted to take a walk in the park and feed the pigeons. George wanted to go fishing. With Lee, it was a dance club. So what do you want to do?" 

My mind is spinning as I try to take in the fact that my employer just snatch me away on a whim, and he seems to do it with all this staff. 

"What about your work?" I ask almost as a diversion. 

"It's a light day," he shrugs. "I took care of the important things this morning. Anything else Rashid will see to. He knows I will be back sometime." 

"I'm not dressed for going anyplace," I say gesturing to my attire of sport top and spandex pants. 

"Then we will go someplace where your attire will fit in," he says before making a turn. 

He parks the car in one of the parking lots for the local park. We get out. I follow him down the one of the paths. 

"Have you been here before?" he asks. 

"No. Since taking this job, I really have not been anywhere outside your grounds," I answer. 

"Really," he says almost in disbelief. 

"I have been out a few times with the others, but not often." 

"How is the job, and are you getting along with the others?" 

"It's not bad. I am still getting use to not moving around all the time, and not having all the circus performers around. The others are great. They have made me feel welcome," I answer. 

"I'm glad." 

We walk on in silence for a bit before I gather the nerve to broach the subject of our past. 

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," I murmur. 

He looks over at me bewildered with innocent blue eyes that I know have seen pain and suffering. 

"When we first meet," I offer as clarification, "but, I just could not let him be hurt any more…" I say letting the last few words drift softly from my lips. "… I promised…" 

The memories still could stir up pain, and I fight to keep the emotion from spilling out. 

"I know," he says softly standing very close before me. "Come," he gently says offering me his hand. 

I take in my surroundings and find we are at an edge of a lake with a paddle boat rental. Quatre appropriates us a boat after paying the man. I slip into one side of the front bench seat, and he pushes us off before hopping in. The few inches of water in the bottom of the boat splash over his shoes as he boards. He takes off his shoes and socks and places them behind us, and I follow suit. We start paddling out into the lake. 

"I don't blame you," he says starting our conversation up again. "You had every right to yell at me. It was my fault he was in that condition," he says melancholically. "I should have never done what I did." 

There are tears on the edge of his eyes. Sorrow and pain scream from their blue depths. What I see in his face almost takes me by surprise. My heart wants to cry with him. 

_"Did he show such remorse then?" _I wonder as I think back. _"I believe he did, but I was too wrapped up in being mad and protecting Trowa that I did not let it touch me."_

"Will you tell me what happened?" I ask gently. 

"Trowa hasn't?" 

"No," I airily say. 

We stop peddling and allow the boat to drift as Quatre tells me what happened. 

"We, the gundam pilots, returned to space," he starts. "I went home to see about making amends with my father. While there, they killed him. The colonies killed him," he softly murmurs. 

A once deep yet not fully healed pain is evident from his demeanor. I place my hand over the one he has on the rudder and give it a reassuring squeeze as I patiently wait for the story I have been curious about for years. 

"I went mad with his death. There is no other way to describe it. I found the specs for the Wing Zero Gundam and built it. If I had only known…" he sighs with a gentle headshake of regret. "What I did not fully understand was how the Zero system warped the pilot if not properly trained. It took my current hatred of the colonies and magnified it, made me believe they were my enemy, and I set out to destroy them. 

"After I destroyed a colony, Trowa and Heero were sent out in the Vayeate and Mercurius to stop me. Trowa came toward me as I warned him not to." 

Quatre closes his eyes before continuing. 

"I shot, hit his suit. After the beam hit, half the suit was gone. He tried to talk some sence into me even though he was in pain, but I was too full of grief and hatred to listen. Then Heero came to stop me. We fought and I tried to convince them that the colonies were now our enemies since they teamed up with OZ. Heero would not give up. I had Heero in my sights to destroy him. Trowa maneuvered his suit to block the blast, saving Heero and the colony. Once more he implored me to see the truth and the futility of the battle. Heero took his opportunity to disarm me. Heero ordered Trowa out of the Vayeate, which was on the verge of exploding. He told Heero he was right and it was the end of the line for him before he blasted off. I called after him when Heero attacked and forceed me into the airlock. I begged Heero to go after Trowa and save him. As Trowa moved farther from the colony, he spoke words that made it through my enraged twisted mind, and he asked me to be the kind boy he knew. Then his suit exploded. I moved to go after him when Heero pinned my Gundam to the wall. I asked him to let me go or Trowa was going to die. He only spoke the truth when he said it was my fault Trowa was gone. It was my fault. I was the cause of my friend's death," 

A tear rolls down his cheek at the memories. I cautiously brush it away only to find one traveling down my own cheek. He opens his sorrowful eyes and looks at me. 

"So you have every right to yell at me and hate me for what I have done. It was my fault Trowa's ship was damages and he was adrift in space for so long. It was my fault…" he almost whimpers. 

I realize he still has not forgiven himself and it is eating at him still. I pull him into a sisterly embrace cooing to him as his forehead rests on my shoulder. 

"You know Trowa forgave you long ago," I say. "Maybe it is time that you forgive yourself," I suggest as I gently rub his back as the silent sobs, which are making him tremble, begin to ease. 

"But how can I. I killed those innocent people," he stammers. 

I place a finger on his lips to keep him from continuing on his path of self-loathing. 

"Quatre, none of us can change the past. What's done is done, and we all do things that we regret. However, we must let the past go, move on, and take the lessons we have learned with us. Trowa was trying to save his friend and willing to give his life to do it. It was a sacrifice he chose to make, and it paid off. You came back to your right mind and found your equilibrium once more." 

"But…" he continues to protest. 

"It was war! Horrible things happen in war. We regretfully accept it and try to move on with our lives," I say tenderly. 

"Do you forgive me?" he asks as if it is the most important thing in the world to him. 

After getting to know him and hearing the story, I found I did forgive him. 

"Yes, Quatre, I forgive you," I answer and place a light kiss of forgiveness on his cheek. "Now get over yourself and get on with living," I teased to break the heavy emotion laden air around us and splashed some water at him. 

He retaliates and before you know it we are both in the lake treading water. 

After getting back in the boat and back to shore, we wander the park some more. With my lightweight cloths, they dry quickly, unlike Quatre's heavier ones. His damp button down shirt clings to him like a second skin. 

We walk in silence for some time just admiring our surroundings. Quatre sits on a bench, and I follow suit. 

"Want some popcorn?" he asks motioning to the popcorn vender down the path not far from the parking lot Quatre's car is parked in. 

"Sure," I say. 

"I'll be right back," he says before taking off toward the man. 

Quatre stops briefly at the car. He pulls out his phone and punches in a series of numbers. I can see him talking but can not hear what he is saying. He repeats the process once more before purchasing and returning with the popcorn and a satisfied look on his face. He hands me a bag of the exploded corn. I pop a kernel into my mouth and glance over at him as we sit on the bench. He has dried out quite a bit but still damp around the edges. The blond partial beard on his chin and the mustache he started to grow a few weeks ago is beginning to fill in and makes him look older and not so boyish. 

"How does dinner and the theater sound?" he asks casually. 

By now I am not letting anything this man does shock me. 

"I don't think they would let me into the theater dressed like this," I point out. 

He gives me a lopsided grin. 

"That is why we are going shopping." 

I sort of sputter at his statement but mentally shrug my shoulders in surrender. Today is going to be different from any other day in my life, and I might as well enjoy it. We make our way back to the car, and Quatre points the car toward the high end shopping area. 

I can not seem to keep myself from gawking at the splendor and preciseness around us as we walk up the street after parking the car. Quatre chuckles to himself at my wide eye wonder. He opens the door to one of the stores and gracefully motions with his arm moving before his body indicating I should enter first. I enter with Quatre close behind me. A well-dressed woman approaches us. 

"Mr. Winner, how nice of you to grace us with your presence," she greets Quatre as we enter the show room. "What can we do for you today?" she asks anticipation the business of an obvious well-known patron. 

"We need an evening dress with all the trimmings for Miss Bloom here, and I need my spare suite, Mrs. Caroline," he says. 

The woman thoughtfully places her hand to her chin while examining me. 

"Where are you planing on going?" she asks. 

"Dinner and the theater," he tosses out as he peruses the garments displayed on the walls. 

"I have some dresses in mind," she says as she pulls me through a curtained doorway. 

She hustles me into one of the changing rooms and calls to a few of her assistance. One moves off to see to Quatre, while the other brings the dress she was wanting. It is a metallic blue, off the shoulder, knee length dress. I pull the curtain closed behind me, strip off my cloths, and manage to slip the dress on. I emerge with dress on and Mrs. Caroline hands me a pair of shoes to go with it. After putting on the shoes, she escorts me back to the main room so I can see myself in the three-way mirror. 

I stand before the mirror and slowly turn so I can see all sides as Quatre emerges caring a garment bag that he hangs on one of the stands ready for such use. 

"That is nice," he says. 

"Yeah, its nice, but it reminds me of my old performing outfit," I observe. 

He only nods, and I am ushered once more to the changing room to repeat the process. The fourth one is a long black sleeveless dress. The bodice is tightly fitted to hold it up therefore it clings to my curves. A long slit up the left side allows me to move in the nearly strait skirt. Upon emerging, the assistance aid me in putting on long black gloves, they drape the black wrap over my shoulders, and help me on with the black shoes. They pull back the curtain so I may enter. 

Upon stepping through the doorway, the look on Quatre's face is all I need to know this is the one. I step before the mirror to see what Quatre sees, and am shocked at how elegant I look even with the messy hair that is pulled up in a ponytail. 

"I think this one is it," I say. 

I change into my cloths and they package it up. When I return, Quatre is talking with Mrs. Caroline. 

"I will have them sent there," she says. "Charge it to your account." 

"That will be fine," Quatre agrees before turning toward me. "Ready to move on." 

I take the arm he gentlemanly offers, and we make our way back out to the sidewalk. The next store he directs me to is a jewelry store. Unsure why we are here, I just start looking at contents in the cases. There are a variety of necklaces, rings, and earrings displayed. I slowly looked at each case while Quatre talked with the salesman. The man disappears briefly and returns with a box. He opens it for Quatre to examine. Inside is a large diamond teardrop necklace on a silver chain with matching dangling earrings. 

"What do you think, Catherine?" he asks as he steps aside for me to inspect the items. 

"They are very nice. Simple, yet elegant," I respond wondering for whom he was buying jewelry. 

Maybe one of his sisters, or he might have a girlfriend. I sort of doubted that because there would be some whispering in the kitchen if he did. Every time he escorts someone to a function speculation fly among the staff. They all wonder if and when their employer will find a wife. The only one unaffected is Mrs. Gilbert. She just says, with a twinkle in her eye, it will happen when it happens. 

Quatre finishes his transaction while I am lost in thought. He pulls me from my musings and off to the next location on his agenda. 

We pull up in front of a large hotel. I find our location odd but hold my tong till I learn of our purpose here. A valet takes the car, the doorman holds open the door, and we enter the lobby. Quatre proceeds to the counter and address the attendant. 

"I'm Quatre R. Winner, and I made reservations earlier today," he says. 

I have to admit the first thought through my head was not favorable to Quatre. Anger began to build at the idea that he believed he could buy me a few trinkets and be able to have his way with me. As I open my mouth to say as much, the clerk's response penetrates through my displeasure. 

"Yes, sir. We have your two rooms ready. Your items from Carolin's arrived earlier and have been placed in the rooms as asked," the clerk informs Quatre. 

"Thank you," he smiles as he accepts the passkeys to the rooms. 

My anger quickly ebbs at the news of two rooms. My hasty judgment was wrong, and I feel slightly embarrassed that I had believed that of him. He has never been anything but gentlemanly and courteous to me. 

Once in the elevator he hands me one of the passkeys. 

"I thought you might like to clean up before dinner," he explains. 

"It would be nice," I say. 

The elevator arrives at our floor, and we find our rooms. I open my door. Before I enter, Quatre turns from his doorway across the hall. 

"Is two hours enough time?" he asks. 

I indicate that it would be before disappearing into my room. 

Hanging in the closet is a garment bag with a box below it. I unzip the bag to find the dress, wrap, and gloves hung neatly on their own hangers. After examining the bag's contents, I pick up the box and place it on the bed. The lid lifts off to reveal the expected shoes, but there is also black hose and underwear. 

I snicker because of how everything seems to be covered. That feeling only increases as I move through the rest of the room. The vanity is stocked with all I will need to do my hair and face. The bathroom is stocked with useful items, as well. 

I shower and put on the provided robe. I run the brush through my hair while I try to decide what to do with it. I look at the dress and try to imagine what would be best. I settle for piling my curls on top of my head with a few escapees around my face. I put on makeup and decide to paint my fingernails. I blow on them gently to dry them as I glance at the clock. My two hours were quickly slipping away, but I still had plenty of time. 

Next is the hose and the dress. I struggle with the zipper for a moment before it is completely secured. I adjust the dress and smooth it out. I do not even recognize my own reflection as I stand before the mirror. I look almost gentle. 

A knock at the door pulls me from admiring my image, and I open my door. Quatre smiles at me. He enters. The tails of his tuxedo sway with his stride. 

"I'm almost ready," I say as I shut the door. 

"No, rush," he says. "I'm a bit early." 

In an unconscious movement he flips his coat tails back before sitting on the edge of the bed to wait. I retrieve the gloves and fumble with putting them on. I then swing the wrap around my shoulders and drape it over my arms. 

"Ready," I announce. 

"Not quite," he says as he pulls out the box from the jewelry store. "You have to complete the outfit with this." 

He secures the necklace around my neck and hands me the earrings to put on. They finish the outfit nicely. 

The evening was wonderful. Dinner was elegant, and the show superb. Quatre was always a gentleman. I can not remember ever having such a day before in my life. As Quatre drives us back, I glance over at him and smile. He is concentrating on the road before us, but he catches my movement. He looks at me briefly and returns my smile. 

"Have a nice time?" he asks. 

"Yes," I answer. It was a delightful day. Thanks." 

"Thanks for coming with me," he says. 

Trowa was right, Quatre was a very kind caring boy. That day he came to the circus, I had allowed my anger to blind me to how deeply he was hurt by Trowa's state. I had even let it carry over to when I saw him at Trowa's and the day I discovered he was Mr. Winner. However, my time working at his estate and today has changed that. He is definitely someone I would like to call friend.   


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	7. Christmas

Ironies of Life   
By West Wind   
Rating: PG   
Pairing: 4xC, 3xR   
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing characters.   


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Chapter 7 - Christmas

After our outing, there is a noticeable difference in the relationship between Quatre and myself. The previous tension that I felt is gone. Often I find myself caught up in conversation with him. It is usually in the evenings I seem to run into him two or three times a week, and before I know it, he has me drawn into a conversation. I am amazed at the wide range of topics we discus. Some times it is important or scholarly like the current political scene or recent scientific breakthrough, and other times it is silly trivial things like our pets as children or favorite flower. 

I find that I enjoy talking with Quatre. He is so easy to talk with, he listens, and he seems to understand what I am trying to say even when I don't have the right words to express it. 

I admit that my blond employer has wormed his way into my life and become a good friend. The hardest thing for me is keeping the two aspects of our relationship separate. I am managing to balance it so far. 

The thing that I find odd is that none of my fellow employees seem to think its odd that Quatre and I socialize often. They will occasionally make a passing joke about it, but they do not seem to think it is unusual. However, I do. I have not seen Quatre spending several evenings a week talking to Leah or Enoch. When I bring the topic up to Mrs. Gilbert, her insight satisfies my curiosity. 

"Everyone knows your are Trowa Barton's sister, even if they did not when I hired you. They also know that your brother is one of Master Quatre's best friends. Therefore for Quatre to spend time with you does not seem odd," Mrs. Gilbert explains. 

Her logic makes since to me, and I do not think about the topic again.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Once again I find Quatre at my door asking to come in. 

"What are you getting Trowa and Relena for Christmas?" he asks as he settled into the couch. 

"I have not really decided yet," I respond. 

"Do you have any ideas?" he asks. 

"A few, but none of them are the right gift," I say. 

Quatre lets out a grown of disappointment. 

"I have no good ideas either," he sighs. 

We start brainstorming on gift ideas for them and finally decide we will just go shopping on earth since we will have a few days between our arrival and Christmas. 

Trowa and Relena had not only invited me to their place for Christmas, but Quatre and the other pilots as well. Quatre and I will be the only ones staying at their place since the others live in the area.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Quatre and I arrive on earth with no problems, and Relena and Trowa are waiting for us. As we step outside into the falling snow, I pull my coat around me tighter. Quatre takes my bag from me and helps put our luggage into the vehicle. I smile thanks to him before Relena pulls me into the car. 

We spend the first day settling in and spending time with Trowa and Relena. Relena appears to be radiant as she scurries around trying to make sure her guests are settled in. I am unsure if it is because of Christmas, her having guests, or something else. 

"We have a surprise for you," says Relena excitedly once Quatre and I emerge from our separate rooms. 

Trowa is at her side with a smirk. They lead us down the hall to another room. 

"Go in," says Trowa. 

I open the door and find myself entering a nursery. I stand in the middle of the room slowly turning taking in the teadybear decorated walls. A crib, small dresser, and a rocking chair are the only pieces of furniture in the room. I look at the others now in the room. 

Relena grins as she announces, "You are going to be an aunt." 

"When?" and many other questions stutter out of my mouth. 

"I'm close to four months," Relena interrupts. 

"Four months!" I say shocked. 

"We wanted to tell you in person," adds Trowa. 

"Why didn't you tell me when you visited Quatre?" I ask. 

"We weren't sure yet," offers Relena sheepishly. 

I congratulate them both along with Quatre. 

"Don't tell the others. They don't know yet," Relena explains. "We plan on announcing it at the Christmas dinner, but we wanted to tell Cathy first."   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

I stand looking over the railing with the cool evening breeze kissing my skin. The black dress Quatre bought me rustles softly around my legs. I hear someone approach. Strong hands are placed on my hips as rough moist lips taste the skin between my left shoulder and neck. Tingles sprint down my spine, and I arch back into him with pleasure. His lips lovingly caress my shoulder with his bangs bruising my skin as he moves. 

He pulls back, and I turn to face him with a smile on my face. His eyes speak of his love for me as our heads move closer. 

"I have wanted to do this for so long," he whispers just before our lips gently touch. 

Our arms encircle the other as we loose ourselves to the sensations we give each other. 

I sit up in my bed breathing heavily. The passion evoked by the dream still coursed through my body. I could not believe I had been dreaming about kissing Quatre. Sure I found him attractive and somewhat desirable, but I am not in love with him. He is just a passing infatuation. 

I push the dream away and try to sleep. Each time I close my eyes, my dream replays through my mind, and I hear his whispered words again and again. I finally give up on sleeping and head to the kitchen to get a drink. The kitchen light is on as I approach, and I can hear someone moving around. 

Quatre finishes pouring himself a glass of milk as I enter. He smiles up at me, and I try to not think about what forced me from my bed. 

"Trouble sleeping?" he asks. 

"Yeah," I reply. 

"Would you like a glass of milk?" he asks. 

"Sure." 

Quatre pulls a second glass from the cabinet while I sit at the table. 

"Here," he says as he places the glass before me. 

"Thanks. Not sleeping well either?" I inquire. 

"No," he says looking into his glass. 

"Anything particular keeping you up?" I ask knowing I am treading on iffy ground. 

"Dreams," he answers turning slightly pink around the edges before he glances at me from behind his bangs. 

I make no more inquiries into it. If I ask him about his dream, I might find myself asked about mine. How can I tell my employer that I was dreaming about him? I take a drink of my milk and change the topic to the Christmas dinner party earlier that evening. 

As we talk I catch myself staring at him as if I am trying to memorize every line and curve that makes up Quatre. I wonder if his lips on my skin would feel like they did in the dream.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The rest of my time with Trowa and Relena was pleasant, and I had no more dreams of kissing Quatre. The week swiftly comes to an end and Quatre and I head home.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%


	8. The Truth is Learned

Ironies of Life   
By West Wind   
Rating: PG   
Pairing: 4xC, 3xR   
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing characters.   


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Chapter 8 - The Truth is Learned

It is Wednesday, and I have started my morning cleaning routine. I have already cleaned two bedrooms and push my cart to Quatre's room. I knock on the bedroom door out of habit and get no answer. I open the door and enter. The room seems to be in more disarray than normal. Glancing around the room I note that the bathroom door is closed but think nothing of it. I go about straitening up the room and making the bed. 

I scoop up the scattered pillows so I can make the bed. I pause briefly as the sent of his cologne wafts from one of the pillows. I inhale the fragrance once more as if trying to memorize it before piling them out of my way. I mentally curs myself for allowing myself to become infatuated with him. Sure he is cute and nice and kind, but he is my employer and in a different league than I could ever dream of being in. Plus, he is younger than I am, if only by a few years. I know I am grasping at reasons to prove to myself not to be attracted to him. 

Even though Kevin has been gone for many years, being attracted to another man has always felt wrong. It is like I was betraying Kevin, even if he would be the first to encourage me to move on. It the past the feeling always hindered me from allowing the infatuation to progress and seriously considering dating anyone. This time is different. The feeling of betrayal is not there. There is not even a twinge of disloyalty, and that scares me. 

As I finish with the bed, I hear the bathroom door open behind me. I turn to find Quatre emerging from the other room. His blond hair is damp and clinging to the sides of his face. My eyes quickly slide over his bare well-developed torso to the towel wrapped around his waist before returning to his face. 

"I'm sorry," I spit out quickly and slightly flushed. "I thought you had already left for work." 

He smiles warmly and runs his fingers through his hair. 

"I have a revised schedule this morning," he answers as he moves around the bed. 

I pull my eyes from his moving form and move to the door. 

"I'll come back to finish later," I say before exiting and pulling the door behind me. 

I lean against the cart for a moment with eyes squeezed shut. If I had not been thinking about him before, I would definitely be thinking about him now. As I push the cart down the hall, I try to push the image of Quatre half-naked from my mind. I try to loose myself in my work. 

A soft rap on the door of the room I am working in pulls my attention from what I am doing. 

"I'm finished," Quatre informs me. 

When I see him, the image of him in a towel resurfaces. OK is all I can think of to say as I look at him dressed in his business suite. 

"Have a good day, Cathy," he grins before leaving. 

I am letting him get to me! Every little smile he throws my way seems to make me unable to think clearly. I have got to get a handle on this and stop letting him have such an affect on me. Him using Cathy instead of Catherine, which he started doing since Christmas, adds to my turmoil. Kevin, Trowa and Relena are the only ones who ever call me Cathy, and there is something in the way he says it that reminds me of Kevin.   


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

As I vacuum, my eyes keep drifting to the closed door leading to his study. The conversation ignighted from Boris's speculation repeats through my mind. … 

~~ 

"He was just gazing intently at the picture on his desk as I worked on the flowerbeds outside the window. I think our young master is in love," Boris speculates. 

"Who do you think it is?" asks Leah pryingly. "Where did he meet her?" 

"Maybe he meet her at the last big social Mrs., Elsbury thew. She had been trying to get him to notice one of her daughters for some time. Remember the business party Mater Quatre held over a year ago and how she kept forcing them at him," adds Enoch. 

"And he was too polite to tell her to bug off," comments Leah. 

"Maybe it is someone he works with," suggests another. 

The speculations of who it is and how they met fly until Mrs. Gilbert enters. 

"You have been in Master Quatre's study," Leah directs toward Mrs. Gilbert. "Who is in the photo on his desk?" 

"That is Master Quatre's own business, and not nosey servants," she says authoritatively squashing the conversation. 

~~ 

That has not kept me from dwelling on it. 

_"Is he really in love with some one? If so, who?"_ I ask myself. 

I fight back the ping of remorse at the center of my being, which is caused by the thought of him with a woman. I do not know why I torture myself this way. If he has found someone, then good for him I tell myself as I focus on the carpet I am cleaning. 

Not even a minute passes before my eyes glance over at the door again. 

_"I could juts take a quick peak. I would not touch anything, and know one would know I had been there,"_ I tell myself. _"You would be invading his privacy! You would not want some one to do that to you."_

I continue to struggle with my internal dilemma until I give in. I flip off the vacuum, leave it, and look around cautiously before proceeding to the door. I turn the knob quickly before I loose my nerve. The door quietly swings open revealing the object of my quest. I move to stand behind the desk making the photo in the frame visible. 

Disappointment fills me as I pick up the frame. It must have been some other photo he was looking at for the photo in my hand was of Trowa and me. Just then I hear a click of the door being shut. My stomach sinks at being caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar. 

"Find something interesting?" asks a male voice. 

I look up into Quatre's face unable to keep the flush from rising on my own. His face is unusually expressionless as he awaits my answer. 

"I was just…" I start. 

"Yes," he says making me more edge because of my guilt. 

He moves closer as I try to put together a coherent answer to his question. I did not know what I would tell him. If I told him the truth, he will wonder why I care so much, which I will not even admit to myself. If I try to make something up, it is going to sound lame and may cost me my job. As I force myself not to fidget under his gaze, I decide I would rather live with the consequences the truth would bring rather than those from a lie. 

"I was curious about the photo on your desk," I admit. 

His eyes narrow slightly as if they were trying to see into me. 

"Why?" he asks while leaning against the wall behind the desk. 

"Boris saw you enamored with a photo on you desk and everyone was speculating who was in it. I just got curious and had to see." 

"And now that you have seen it what do you think?" he asks taking the picture from my hand. 

"Hmmm," I stall. 

"What did you think when you first saw the picture?" he rephrases the question. 

"I thought you must have a different picture," I say, as I look him in the eye with honesty 

"There is no other picture," he says slowly as he reaches around me to set the picture back on the desk. "That is the picture I was enamored with." 

My unvoiced why is clearly written on my face. Quatre's eyes lock onto mine, and I wait for him to continue. He places a hand on the desk on either side of me effectively trapping me in place. 

"Because I am in love with the woman in it," he says with a smirk at the corners of his mouth. "I have been for a long time. I just didn't know if she knew if she loved me yet." 

He arched one eyebrow in an unvoiced query. 

"She does," I manage to get force out of my suddenly dry mouth. 

His smirk turns into a full-blown smile. 

"I thought she might," he says as he lowers his lips to mine for a brief kiss. 

I lean against the desk for support as my knees threaten to buckle at his touch. 

"Will you marry me?" he honestly asks after the kiss. 

That was just one too many shocks in a three minute time frame for my system to take. I begin to slide to the floor. Quatre catches me and chuckles. 

"A bit to quickly for you?" he asks. 

I only nod while clinging to him for support. He easily sets me on the desk. 

"You don't have to give me an answer right now," he says. 

I throw my head back and laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. I tell myself I have to be dreaming again. 

"No, you are not dreaming" Quatre says as if he can read her thoughts. "And sometimes fairytales do come true," 

It is a direct quote from the end of my story about Pat. He smiles teasingly at me. 

"You gave me the story with your other writings," he explains. "Maybe it was a prophetic story." 

I feel giddy at the recent events. I struggle to form a coherent thought other than Quatre is in love with me. I look into his smiling face. His blue eyes are overflowing with mirth and happiness as he looks down at me. He gently strokes my cheek. My breath catches in my throat at his touch and I lean into his caress. 

"You are so beautiful," he breathes. 

He once again catches my lips in a kiss. I lean closer to him wrapping my arms around his neck. His soft hair brushes against my arms. He trails kisses down my jaw to my neck. 

"I have waited for this moment for so long," he whispers before nibbling my ear. 

His familiar words cause me to stiffen. Quatre pulls back and looks at me questioningly. 

I try to shrug it off. 

"Your words reminded me of a dream," I pitifully try to explain. "A dream I had about you the night I found you in Trowa and Relena's kitchen." 

He seems to blush slightly as he chuckles nervously. 

"In your dream were you standing by a railing in your black dress and I come up behind you and kiss your neck?" he asks. 

My eyes widen in surprise. 

"There are some things I need to tell you," he says catching my hands in his and gently stroking them with his thumbs. 

My stomach turns at his comment, and I fear the worst, even when I do not know what he is going to tell me. 

"It is nothing bad," he comforts as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. 

I am amazed at how he always seems to know what I am thinking or feeling. 

"At times, I know and feel things like what people are feeling," he says looking into my eyes. 

I look at him confused. 

"What do you mean?" I softly ask. 

"Well," he starts as he searches for examples, "when I first met your brother in combat, I knew it was wrong for us to be fighting each other. My heart cried out it was wrong," he explains as he rests his hand on the center of his chest, "so I surrendered. I came out of my Gundam and Trowa did also. That is when we became friends," he smiles at the memory. 

"I know for the past few months, you have had an internal struggle anytime I am near. You try to convince yourself you are not in love with me and it is an infatuation. You worry because you do not feeling like you are betraying Kevin when you might have feelings for me. And right now you are confused and don't understand." 

He looks down at me with the most expressive caring set of eyes, and I believe he can see into my soul. 

"Can you do this with everyone?" I ask. 

"Fortunately, no," he answers. "Usually it has to be a strong emotion for me to pick it up even with my friends. Although, there was a part of me that knew Trowa was still alive and wanted to search for him after his suite exploded," he shrugs. "I do not fully know the extent of my gift, but I have learned to trust it. Especially concerning you." 

Quatre once more strokes my cheek, and a warmth spreads over me filled with love, devotion, and longing. I gasp at the intensity of the emotions. Some how I am certain that what I am feeling is his feelings. 

"That is what I think happened with your dream," he sheepishly smiles at me. "After watching and being envious of Relena and Trowa's relationship and seeing you in that dress again at the Christmas dinner, I wanted to take you up in my arms and tell you how I felt. I found myself dreaming of you often both when awake and asleep. Some how we shared one of those dreams, I think." 

"So how long?" I ask once I find my voice. 

Quatre once more chuckles lovingly at me, and happiness bubbles within me. 

"Many years," he admits. "Since around the day that picture was taken," he says gesturing to the photo on his desk. 

I twist and pick up the photo once more to examine it. Now, I remember it being taken. It was taken the summer after Trowa came back to me after the last confrontation. 

"I went to visit Trowa and watched your act. When I saw you again, I knew you were the one for me. It was beyond me how, since you never seemed very pleased to see me, but I knew one day…," he trails off. 

"When Trowa and I returned, you were out playing with some of the children. I could not take my eyes off you, and your brother noticed. I was embarrassed that my attraction to you was that obvious. He gave me a half-cocked smile and playfully ruffled my hair before promising to send me a picture so I could watch you all I wanted without feeling your wrath. A week or so latter I received the promised item and it has adorned my desk ever since." 

That explains Trowa's smirk when I told him of my job. He has known all along that Quatre was in love with me. 

"You have been waiting for me that long," I say in awe as I place the photo back. 

"Yes," he emotionally says, "and you are worth it." 

"Oh, Quatre," I coo as I feel my insides quiver with his words. 

His face is open for me to read and those words ring true from his soul. This man loves me like none other ever has or will. I feel like the luckiest woman alive as I lean forward and kiss him. A small tear of joy makes its way down my cheek. 

Quatre pulls me off the desk and closer to him. My body molds itself to his as our kiss deepens. The emotions of each of us soar at our newly declared romance, and our closeness causes my entire body to tingle with the rightness of it. 

I am home and where I belong - in his arms. 

~ The End ~   


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Author's Note: I thought I wouldl add at least one more chapter showing the reactions of those around them to their romance, but I have decided to not do it. I started writing it, but I don't like it so this is as good a place to end as any. 

Let me know what you thought, suggestions on improving, etc. 

West Wind 


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